


B is For Beginning

by squad51rescue



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squad51rescue/pseuds/squad51rescue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Desoto and John Gage are just beginning their partnership.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows "A is For Animals"; I am attempting the alphabet challenge posted somewhere by someone (thank you!), and will try and keep the stories in order! Thanks for reading!

Fireman/Paramedic Roy Desoto shouldered his way into the locker room at his new station – Station 51 in Carson. He was pleasantly surprised to see his partner of one month already seated on the bench in front of his locker, a white towel dangling loosely between his fingers, head bent down with water dripping off his dark hair. Desoto smiled at the white line around the younger man’s hairline, plainly evidence of a fresh haircut on Gage’s tanned skin.

“Good morning Gage! How was your day off?”

“Hey…..Roy,” John Gage finally replied, slowly raising his head to look over at Roy.

Roy stopped his rummaging in his locker and looked closer at Gage. His partner was squinting up at him, dark rings under his eyes. Roy watched him run the towel through his hair a final time and drop it on the floor in front of him, before pushing himself off the bench with both hands. Johnny smiled sheepishly and finally answered the question.

“Left the station, got a haircut, walked into my apartment all ready for a nap – made the serious mistake of answering the phone. It was my old captain over at 10’s, one of their lineman called in with the flu or something. So that’s how I spent my day off…..”

Roy grunted in sympathy and turned back to his dressing. He lifted up his sandals and placed them neatly in the bottom of his locker before straddling the bench to pull on dark socks and his leather boots, wishing he could work in the sandals. An unusual heat wave of temperatures in the 90’s had plagued the city for the last three days, and showed no signs of relenting even though fall was almost upon them. Roy frowned as he watched Johnny pull on his dark blue jacket over his still untucked uniform shirt.

“You expecting a cold front to move in this morning? You’re over there layering up, and I’m sitting here seriously considering REMOVING my tshirt! You ok Johnny?”

“Yeah, nothing a cup of coffee won’t cure, and maybe a nap. Kinda swallowed some water on a rescue…..think I’m still feeling the effects of that.”

“Rescue? Thought you said that you worked the truck?”

“I did. But they had six, SIX Roy, cars go over into the Dominguez Channel! Can you believe that?” John blew out his breath in a frustrated sigh, and half stifled the cough that escaped him. He finished tucking his shirt in as the door swung open and their engineer, Mike Stoker, poked his head in.

“Hey, guys, roll in 5…”

“Ok, thanks Stoker,” Roy replied, pushing his locker door shut with the palm of his hand and waiting for his partner to pick up his wet towel and precede him. The men followed Stoker into the bay, picking up their hats along the way. The other three men were already waiting, loosely grouped in a semicircle in front of the engine.

Captain Hammer came out of his office and joined them. He paused, looking them over, before greeting them as a group.

“Lopez, you handling the meals today? How much do we need to give you?”

“Three each will do it, Captain.” The Hispanic lineman replied, holding out his hand as his crewmates reached into their wallets and handed the money to him.

“B shift used a lot of hose on their shift – Stoker, Kelly get that cleaned up, will you. Desoto, handle the day room and the bay….Gage, take the dorms. Don’t think you need to change the bunks, the men never had the chance to use them. And according to the captain over at 10’s, once you’re done with the cleanup, Gage, YOU need to hit the sack. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir…..” Gage mumbled, inadvertently turning so that the left side of his face was clearly visible for the first time to his colleagues. A collective gasp arose from the group as they saw the vivid bruising running down the side of his face from his temple down to his jawline. Roy had no doubt that the bruising continued along his arm and down his side, judging by the way his partner was absentmindedly rubbing his left arm and listing subtly to the right.

Their captain cleared his throat, folded his arms, and looked quietly around the circle. “Gage was pulling an overtime shift at 10’s, when they were called out at about 10 pm for that block fire down on Lomita. Our station went out on the second alarm about 10:30 – cleanup didn’t start until almost 6am, it was that bad. Gage, fill us in on your mishap.”

Johnny lifted his head, but kept his eyes down as he answered, nervously pushing his hands into his front pockets. “Weeelllllll……..we were into it about three hours by then, not sure how many stations were in it by then. I was backing up a boot from 36’s on a line about 200 feet into one of the buildings….he kinda lost control of the hose and went sideways….the nozzle snaked up and whacked me a good one on the face before I was able to fall on it,” Gage paused and again unconsciously rubbed his arm, “and get full control of it.”

He finally raised his eyes and looked at Roy, then glanced back at his captain before visibly shuddering and folding his own arms tightly across his body, mimicking Hammer’s stance.

“According to Captain Smith at 36’s, you did a pretty thorough job of gaining control of that wild hose and keeping their boot from serious injury. Good job, John. Now let’s get to work men….”

The crew silently dispersed, shooting glances at their tired, disheveled paramedic as they did so. Mike Stoker hit the button to raise the back bay door and headed in the direction of the hose tower, stopping by Gage on his way. He laid a hand gently on the other man’s shoulder and spoke softly to him, eliciting a small smile and nod from the younger man. Chet Kelly did the same, before following the lanky engineer outside.

Roy Desoto watched all of this, leaning on the front fender of their squad. As soon as his partner made a move toward the dorm, he straightened out and crossed the cement floor towards John. John immediately stopped, turned slightly and raised a stopping hand. He shook his head at Roy, smiled, and trudged out of sight around the engine.

Roy sighed and continued on into the day room. After a few minutes of clearing up the counters and large table, he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and loped back into the bay. After only a month of being a certified paramedic, he wasn’t quite settled into the daily routine yet of the required tasks he and his partner needed to take care of at the start of every shift. It didn’t make him feel any better that apparently his junior partner had forgotten also…

After the required radio check with Rampart, and checking through the medical supplies, Roy returned to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to clean up the area, especially with Marco commandeering the kitchen area to begin preparations for lunch and supper. He only saw Johnny once, when the dark haired paramedic pushed the mop bucket into the kitchen, pointed mutely at it, and left. Roy moved into the bay area and swept and mopped it – after having Mike move the engine into the front driveway alongside the squad.

Two hours later Roy Desoto crept stealthily into the dorm and peered across the room, locating his partner on his bunk. John was curled up tightly on his right side, the white sheet pulled up to his chin. Desoto moved across the room to stand by the side of bed, peering down at his sleeping crewmate. He noticed the flush look of his skin, and resisted the urge to put his hand across John’s forehead to check for fever.

“Don’t EVEN think about doing what you are about to do,” John slurred, obviously annoyed, without opening his eyes. Roy jumped back, realizing that he had been leaning slightly forward in order to locate his partner’s wrist to check his pulse. He gulped and took up a defensive stance.

“And just what was I about to do?”

John finally opened his eyes and snaked both arms out from under the covers, stretching and wincing as he did so. He sat up slightly, forearms under him, and glared at the older man waiting patiently for his reply. Roy noticed that he now had the blue jacket zipped up to his chin.

“Kinda looked like you were about to play doctor on me, that’s what, partner.” John dropped back onto his pillow and briefly closed his eyes, before opening them again and turning his head towards Roy.

“Can you blame me? I’ve got all these paramedic skills just going to waste…first you tell me that you swallowed water, then I get to hear about how you got whaled on by a charged hose…combine that with no sleep, probably no food, and the fact that you look and sound like death warmed over….makes me want to utilize all of our learning and get some good practice in.” 

Roy smiled and relaxed his posture. He watched his partner yawn, sit up again, and untangle himself from the sheet before swinging his uniform clad legs over the side of the bed. Whatever reply John was going to make was forestalled by the klaxons going off for the first time that shift.


	2. Chapter 2

The bay door was going up as Roy jumped into the cab, only seconds before his partner opened the passenger door and slid in, work boots clutched in his right hand. The captain leaned in the open window, handing the call slip to the driver before making a move toward the engine. Roy slapped his helmet on his head, handed over the paper to Gage, and started the squad in well-practiced moves. The squad moved forward, lights and sirens flashing and blaring as they led the way onto 223rd Street, the engine seconds behind them.

“Take the first left coming up here, then right onto the entrance ramp. Should be about a quarter of a mile beyond that,” Gage instructed, pushing his helmet back in annoyance, the chin strap dangling loosely under his chin. He had his left foot up on the seat pulling his boot on; nimble fingers quickly tied the lace and the right socked foot replaced the booted foot.

“Ok…”Desoto replied, glancing over and trying not to wince at the vividly hued bruising on his partner’s face. He risked a quick second look at the perspiration beading John’s brow and upper lip; a single drip was slowly running down the bruise. Roy opened his mouth to make a comment and thought better of it as he felt the sweat starting to slowly make its way down his own back.

“There!” Johnny pointed ahead of them as they made their way slowly down the left side of the freeway, the side of the squad inches away from the dividing concrete barrier. Roy swung the wheel hard to the right and parked the squad long ways in front of the two lanes of traffic that was stopped; the harried motorists in those two lanes trying to merge into the lanes slowly moving forward to the right of them.

Both paramedics looked for a second at the lone car facing forward in front of them; the left back bumper was about six inches away from the concrete divider with the car slightly angled off to the right. There was no evident damage to the car, and no sign of leakage or fire.

“I’ll go see what we got, get the gear, will ya?” Gage asked, already in motion around the front of the cab, pulling on his gloves. Desoto didn’t reply as he had already moved around the back of the squad, unlocked the compartment, and pulled out the biophone and drug box. He looked up in time to see his partner stop at the front of the car, pause, then lean forward to look towards the windshield, gloved hands resting on the hood. Gage took a startled step back and shot a questioning look at his approaching crewmate before trotting rapidly over to the driver’s door.

Roy had just made the back bumper of the car when he noticed out of the corner of his eye the engine finally weaving its way through the honking line of cars on his right. A motorcycle officer was leading the way. He paused as he saw Gage move backwards from the car and lift the handi talki to his mouth.

“HT 51 to Engine 51…we have a Code F here……no fuel leak…” Johnny waved Roy back, shaking his head at him so hard that he dislodged his loosely strapped helmet, knocking it to the pavement. Roy stopped, trying to quell the inappropriately timed thought that entered his head about the jokes that had preceded the younger man to Station 51 – Gage was always losing his helmet; he watched his partner bend over to pick up his helmet, then abruptly stride forward 4 or 5 huge steps. Johnny leaned over, left hand resting on the wall, his back to Roy, and started vomiting.

“Johnny!” Roy yelled, dropping the boxes and trying to maneuver between the freeway divider and the car. He grunted in annoyance as he caught his pant leg on the edge of the bumper and reached down to pull it free. Gage straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, and turned toward the older man, putting his hand forward in the now oddly familiar “stop” gesture Roy had been given earlier at the station.

“Just…just give me a minute, ok? And Roy, don’t look in there, ok?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but jammed his helmet back on his head and turned to face the westbound lanes of moving vehicles, resting his hands on the concrete barrier.

Roy studied his partner’s profile for a second, noticing the clenched jaw, hell – even from here he could see the jumping muscle, and the slitted eye. He wondered what emotions were causing that tense look – disgust, revulsion, anger? There was a lot of things he didn’t know about this young man, but the one thing that he was absolute sure of was that John Gage was 100% professional on the job. He trusted his judgment and instincts. Roy sighed and backed up, picked up the hastily dropped boxes, and made a slow retreat back towards the flashing lights of the squad.

He was still standing in front of the opened compartment on the passenger side, gazing within, when he heard the slow footsteps coming towards him and the door opening. He looked up in time to see Gage fling his gloves in disgust to the floorboard, and flip his helmet to the seat. He watched, trying to keep his face expressionless, as the obviously annoyed paramedic slumped onto the seat, head bent and twitching hands dangling between his legs as he planted his feet on the pavement.

Desoto gently closed the compartment door and turned the key. He leaned against the squad, his left arm and hand braced against the gleaming, red paint as he waited patiently for John.

“Ya know, Roy, I’ve been a rescue man for, what, over two years now? And I’ve never seen anything like that….hell, I hope I never see it again!” John raised his head and squinted over at Roy, scrubbing the palm of his hand across his forehead, down the side of his nose, and across his cheekbone in an irritated gesture that Roy instantly recognized, from his own experiences, as the symptoms of a pounding headache.

“What was it?”

“A huge rock, no, a boulder, smashed right through the windshield and hit the guy dead on…..at least I think it was a guy, there isn’t enough….ahh Roy…man…...he was wearing a tux….where do you think he was going at almost 11 in the morning, on a Saturday? Had to be something big…” his voice trailed off in abject misery as he sighed and lowered his head to stare at his scuffed boots, hands now tapping a mindless rhythm against his pants.

“Johnny…” Roy nudged his distraught friend with the canteen, not quite sure what to say. “Thanks for warning me…….”

He looked up and flashed Roy a tight smile, taking the proffered canteen. “Well, that’s what partners do, right?”

Roy shrugged and smiled back, jumping slightly when a hand came down on his shoulder. Their captain stood there, looking at both men with concern. He motioned towards Gage, who, eyes closed and one hand pressed against his head, was downing the contents of the canteen.

“He’s ok, got a killer of a headache though….” John jumped, as startled as Roy had been, and sprayed a mouthful of water out narrowly missing his captain. He started coughing and both men reached in and pulled him forward and out of the seat.

“I’m….I’m good, ok…” Gage choked out, finally standing upright and swiping at his tearing eyes. “Just didn’t hear ya…”

Hammer nodded, releasing his hold on the younger man. “Why don’t you head the squad back to the barn, we shouldn’t be far behind.”

“Right, Captain,” Desoto replied, taking the emptied canteen out of his partner’s hand. He pushed him gently back toward the seat before making his own way back to the driver’s side and jumping in, laying the canteen down on the seat between them. Gage looked over at him and then picked up his helmet from the seat and hung it up; he leaned back wearily with a sigh and closed his eyes once again as Roy slowly merged into the one lane left open on the freeway.

Both men were silent on the way back to the station, even though Roy had a thousand questions running through his mind. As they backed into the apparatus bay, John picked up the mike and reported them back in quarters.

“Squad 51, stand by for response….” It was Roy who sighed this time, stopping and shifting the squad into park, the front of the truck sticking out of the bay.

“Squad 51, unknown type rescue, 1022 N Avalon Blvd, 1-0-2-2 N Avalon Blvd, cross street Anaheim, time out 11:18.”

“Squad 51, 10-4…” John acknowledged, writing down the info on a slip of paper and slapping his helmet back on his head. Roy pulled back out, the doors closing behind them as they turned and headed west.


	3. Chapter 3

 

The address turned out to be in a residential area – as the squad pulled up to the curb a heavily pregnant woman waddled up, arms waving frantically in the air. The dark haired paramedic was only half way out the door, gloves in hand, when she latched onto his arm, pulling at his jacket with one hand and digging her red tipped fingernails through the fabric and into his arm with the other hand. Gage winced and wondered what his arm would look like if he didn’t have his jacket on…….

“Ma’am, ma’am you need to calm down….MA’AM!” Johnny growled out the last word, finally catching the panicked woman’s attention. “What’s the problem? Is it you….”

“No, no! It’s my kids, they’re stuck up the tree in the backyard, I’m so afraid they’ll fall, I can’t get them down…obviously! This way, this way…..” She grabbed Johnny by the arm and started pulling him towards a side gate leading to the back yard. Shooting his partner a “you’ve got to be kidding me look”, the bemused young man allowed her to tug him after her, narrowly missing knocking them both to the ground when he tripped over a sprinkler hidden in the shaggy grass. Roy, trotting after them with a gear box in each hand, smiled as his counterpart righted himself and firmly took control of the situation – gently disengaging himself from her grip and taking HER elbow in his hand and escorting her forward.

After skirting around the toys and playground equipment scattered about the large backyard, the paramedics could finally see the tree, but not any children. They moved forward under the shady canopy and peered upwards – finally locating the dangling legs of two small children perched precariously within its branches. Both men paused, wondering exactly how the kids had managed to scale their way up into the tree. Johnny loped around the tree in a circle, looking up into the branches. He made his way back to the front of the tree and tossed his helmet to the ground off to one side.

“Hey Roy, there’s a knotted rope hanging down on the back side…I think that’s how they got up there……

“Better call for an engine and get a ladder up there,” the older man replied, pulling the HT away from his wrist where it dangled from the strap.

“No no! There’s a ladder right there hanging on the house…use that! My husband put that rope up there, I don’t know what he was thinking!” The woman kept on rambling hysterically, even as the paramedics trotted over to the ladder suspended from hooks and lowered it down. One man on each end, they carried it to the tree and leaned it against the trunk. Johnny stepped back out of the shade and looked up again, shading his eyes against the noon sun.

“I’ll go up over there, see if I can reach them and hand them down to you, k?” He didn’t wait for a reply but scurried over to the rope, pulling on his gloves that were jammed into his back pocket. He pulled on the rope to test it, then nimbly began climbing up it hand to hand, and launched himself up and out of sight into the dense canopy of green.

Roy could hear John talking to the children as he made sure the feet of the ladder were stable; he began climbing up the rungs. Once his feet reached the next to the top rung, he stopped and peered upwards, the top of his helmet brushing against the leaves. He stretched his arms upward; there was a good two to three feet between the tips of his fingers and the swinging, tennis shoe clad legs of the children above him.

From his branch above but to the left of the two kids, John looked down at the tousled blond heads. A boy and a girl, about six years old, were straddling a branch. The boy was behind the girl, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Their heads were rotating between John and his partner, but both children seemed calm and unhurt.

“Hey guys, my name is John and I’m a fireman. What’s your names?”

The girl turned her head back in his direction and pouted her lip out. “I’m Sara and this is my twin Matthew. How come you don’t have a helmet on if you’re a fireman?”

“Well, I’ll tell you…I’m always getting in trouble from my captain ‘cause I can’t seem to keep that thing on my head. It’s down there in the grass by the tree, near your mom. But you notice my partner Roy down there has his on, I guess he listens better than I do. You ready to come down now?”

“Yep,” Matthew replied, “my butt hurts. How you gonna get us out of here?”

John peered down at the branch the kids were straddling, knowing there was no way the limb was going to support his weight; the tip of it was already bending downwards. Every time the twins shifted it was quivering beneath their 100 pounds of combined weight. He hoped one of them wouldn’t make a sudden move, as the branch looked springy enough to catapult one or both of them into the air.

“I’ve got a plan, but I need you to do something for me. Try to sit really still, alright?” Gage rose from his crouched position to his feet, moving sideways on the limb to his left. He cautiously encircled some of the trunk with his arms, and swung his lower body out and around the trunk, planting both feet awkwardly on a branch that jutted out at an angle but was almost directly above the kids. He slid the rest of his body around the trunk and paused for a moment to catch his breath, one arm still around the trunk. Letting go of the trunk, he carefully turned around on the branch so that his back was to Roy and the kids and sat down. He thrust both legs out and pushed his feet against the branch parallel to him that had the rope tied to it; he removed his gloves and laid them down on the branch. He slowly reached forward and grabbed the rope, untying the simple knot and pulling the rope up and into a coil.

From his perch down below, Roy peered up through the leaves and branches, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He watched as his partner hitched the rope to the branch he was now fully crouching on, and slowly let it drop behind him. The rope fell down past Matthew’s position and stopped about a foot below the limb they were sitting on. John turned his head and looked down at the kids, his left hand on the tree trunk for balance and his right hand resting on the branch.

“Ok kids, which one of you wants to go first? I’m going to get my arms around you and lower you down to my partner, but I’m going to be upside down and will need to move kinda fast….”

“Johnny are you sure…?” Roy queried, trying to get a better view of Gage. He barely heard John’s soft reply of “trust me, partner” because the kids had begun to bounce in excitement, causing the branch to spring up and down.

“Matthew first!” John shouted, making a quick decision after seeing the antics of the kids below him. He moved down the rope with his whole body, about a foot ,before scissoring his legs around it and going over backwards in one swift movement. He grunted as his lower back hit the vibrating branch the kids were bouncing on, but reached over in a twisting motion and grasped Matthew with both hands, pulling him away from his sister. He slowly let his weight drop backwards again, turning the boy and lowering him with straining arms downwards to the stretching hands of Desoto. Roy slid his hands up the boy’s dangling legs until he got a good grip around his waist, yelled “got him” to his gasping partner, then rapidly descended almost to the bottom of the ladder and handed off Matthew to the patiently waiting patrolman below.

Johnny, stomach muscles furiously protesting, twisted himself partially upright to the left again, his legs beginning to quiver. “Sweetheart, can you slide backwards just a bit, towards me?”

Sara obligingly slid herself backwards several inches, allowing the fireman to encircle her waist with his arms. He plucked her off the branch, turning her as he let himself go over backwards again. He could hear Roy climbing the ladder below him, and hoped he was close. Seconds later the weight was removed from his grasp, and after he heard Roy’s “got her” he released his grip, and heaved his top half up on the kids’ branch, his cramping legs above the limb releasing from the rope and smacking downwards onto the branch. He lay prone on the wildly vibrating limb, hoping his weight wouldn’t snap it; he rested his cheek against the bark and held on for dear life until the bucking subsided and he could catch his breath.

Roy carried the girl over to her mother, trying to hide his smile as the still wildly excited woman tried to put her arms around both of them; her protruding stomach stopping her from accomplishing the task even halfway. He set the girl down on the ground and watched a moment as the mother was finally able to encircle the child and pull her into a smothering hug. Matthew ran up to the pair, Gage’s helmet hanging down past his ears, and joined in the noisy fray.

This time Roy smiled and turned his attention back to the tree. He could see the boots and blue legs of John slowly descending the ladder, the police officer steadying the ladder. Roy frowned in puzzlement when the patrolman reached up and shook John’s foot; the feet paused for a moment and then the shook foot kicked out and lightly tapped the cop on the head. With an audible thump, his partner skipped the last two rungs and jumped to the ground, the knotted rope coiled and hanging from his left hand. He paused to say something to the uniformed man, who responded with a bray of laughter, then continued over to Roy, a quirky smile in place on his perspiring face.

“My friend Drew, motorcycle cop extraordinaire….Well, I wonder just how long it will be before those kids are in that tree again?” He smirked, looking over at the family. “I guess we’d better get that ladder down before they get any more ideas.”

Roy shook his head as both men headed back to the tree. “I’ll lay money on their mother going into panic induced labor before then….”

Gage rolled his eyes and snorted, slapping the end of the rope against Roy’s derriere. “If that happens, partner, you get to deliver even though it’s my turn! I think I’m gonna hafta have stitches where she clawed my arm! There’s no way I’m gonna be within 10 feet of those lethal weapons!”

His partner tried to keep his laughter in check as they put the ladder back in its place and joined the family and Drew, who was trying to fill out his report. Johnny retrieved his helmet from Matthew, narrowly escaping the now thankful clutches of the mother, who was trying to smother her children with hugs and kisses while grabbing for the paramedics. John’s friend finally escorted the trio into the house and the partners began the hazard strewn walk back towards the squad.

“Awww…I left my gloves up in that tree. Go ahead, Roy, I’ll meet you at the squad.” Roy answered with a wave of his hand and disappeared around the corner of the house. The dark haired man trotted back over to the tree and threw the rope back up over the original branch, fastened a simple hitch, and climbed his way back up. After pocketing the gloves, he unhitched the rope and coiled it over his shoulder. He made his way to the lowest branch, swung over the branch and down, hanging for a second with an overhang grip, and then dropped the five feet to the ground.

Gage hung the rope up on the ladder, safely out of reach of the twins, and jogged his way to the corner of the house. He halted suddenly, leaning up against the back corner, bending from the waist and bracing his hands on his knees. Gasping slightly, he tried to quell the rising nausea and keep from losing the contents of the canteen now churning in his stomach.

“Awww man, come on…”he muttered, pressing one hand up against his forehead, his pounding headache back in play now that the adrenaline rush had worn off. Taking deep breaths, he finally straightened up and shivered, using the sleeve of his still zipped jacket to wipe off his face. “Get it together, Gage, the shift isn’t even half over.”

Finally, after composing his features into a carefully blank expression, he moved carefully toward the squad and his waiting partner. He was surprised to see Roy still standing by an open compartment door, hefting something in his hand. When John got closer, he could see that it was one of their life belts. He smiled sheepishly as Desoto glared at him and swung the belt toward him in a menacing arc.

“You do know what one of these is, right? And what they’re used for?”

“Yeah…sure……really Roy, there wasn’t a heck of a lot of time….that branch was either going to shoot those kids into space or deposit them into a not too pretty heap on the ground….” Roy snorted and threw the belt back into the compartment. Johnny was glad for the diversion as he cautiously opened his door and slid slowly into the seat before Roy had made it around to his own door.

After John called them in as available, there was silence for a few moments as Roy navigated out of the neighborhood and back onto the main roads. John turned his head slightly and looked at his partner, who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

“You’ve got kids, right?”

Roy shot a quick look at Gage, wondering where this conversation was headed. “Two kids, boy and a girl. Why?”

“Would your kids do something like that, you know, climb up into that huge tree?”

“Not really sure, they’re kind of young right now …but I have a feeling that my daughter will probably be the ringleader in that sort of adventure when they get a little older.”

“Huh…I would have been up in that tree probably younger than that, but then again I wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week after my old man tanned my hide.” Johnny smiled slightly, apparently recalling some memory. “Not that it would have stopped me from doing it again…..”

Roy looked back over at his partner, noticing that he was rubbing his face again and his skin seemed flush. “Yeah, my dad would have done the same. But unlike you, I wouldn’t have tried again. You going to need some aspirin when we get back? Looks like you still have that headache.”

John picked up the canteen, still lying between them on the seat, and shook it. “Guess we missed lunch again…wanna stop somewhere and eat? I think my stomach is eating itself. And yeah, I really need those aspirin…..”

The men stopped at a burger joint about two miles from Station 51; the locally owned restaurant was fast becoming one of their “one of those days” places to stop and grab a bite when they missed a meal. Head down, Roy had uncharacteristically wolfed down half his burgers and fries in anticipation of being called out.

Finally coming up for air, he swallowed and washed down his calorie laden food with several swallows of soda before glancing across the picnic table at Gage. His partner had his own head bent over his food, but instead of eating it was distractedly pulling the top of the bun apart with his long fingers. His soda, straw and lid laying abandoned on the table, was completely gone except for several slivers of ice. Feeling his gaze on him, Johnny finally lifted his head and looked back, before shrugging and pushing himself to his feet. He gathered up his trash and dumped it before heading over to the cab of the truck, ht swinging from his hand.

Roy closed his slightly opened mouth and shrugged himself, before leisurely finishing the rest of his food. When he climbed into the squad, his partner was slouched down, head against the back of the seat, shoulder leaning against the door, and eyes closed. Roy, remembering the persistent headache, felt a pang of guilt and hurriedly drove back to the station.

Once inside the apparatus bay, John clumsily exited the vehicle and made his way to the locker room. Roy slowly climbed out, feeling the greasy food sitting in the pit of his stomach and wondering if maybe his partner had had the right idea of abstaining from the food. Captain Hammer leaned out of his office, then stepped the rest of the way out and approached his senior paramedic.

“How’d that run go? What was the unknown rescue, anything serious? Didn’t hear any requests for an ambulance.”

“Nope, a couple of little kids stuck up a tree. I was more worried about their very pregnant mother going into labor; she was pretty high strung but maybe that’s the way she always is. I only heard one call for the engine, pretty quiet?”

“Just a dumpster fire, cleanup took longer than putting out the fire. Have lunch? There’s some leftovers in the fridge…Lopez is already busy on dinner.”

“We ate on the way here…” Roy replied, following his captain into the day room to grab a glass of milk. Maybe that would help settle his queasy stomach.

Splashing cold water on his face, John Gage looked up into the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. It was a wonder that he hadn’t scared those kids out of the tree with the colorful bruising, dark smudges under his eyes, and squinty eyes that he couldn’t seem to be able to open all the way because of the incessant pounding behind them. He sighed, rinsed his mouth out, and headed over to his locker to root through his locker for the bottle of aspirin that he hoped he had in his gear bag. He’d barely made it into the latrine before losing the soda and the few bites of bun that he had swallowed down.

Roy pushed into the locker room and headed for the sink to wash up. He looked at his partner’s reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. “Do you need aspirin, or did you find some?”

Perched on the bottom of his locker, John held up his hand to show Roy the two white pills pinched between his thumb and index finger. Roy grimaced as the younger man dry swallowed them, then leaned back out of sight within the depths of his locker. Shaking his head in disgust, Roy dried his hands and headed back towards the bay, hoping for a little down time to fill out the log.

“Station 51, possible heart attack…” his hopes were squashed as the tones rang out, and the station 51 crew headed for their vehicles. The door was going up as Gage entered the vehicle, pulling on his uniform shirt over his v-neck tshirt, and tossing his jacket on the seat beside him……

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the afternoon was busy, with four runs back to back for the squad. Luckily they had all been minor, with only two medical transports to Rampart. The heart attack victim had turned out to be a minor case of heartburn, while the two transports had been a teenager with a broken arm and a woman with a severe allergic reaction to a bee sting. After assisting on the “heart attack” run, the engine had responded to a gas leak at a gas station, and a minor fender bender on a surface road.

Backing the squad in, Roy swore he could smell the aroma of Marco’s dinner wafting through the air. Something definitely spicy and Mexican in origin, he surmised, stretching his way out of the squad and trudging towards the kitchen. He could hear John behind him, maybe a little slower than the usual galloping pace he seemed to have, but definitely following the tantalizing odor. The men moved through the doorway and into the room, last ones in but clearly in time for the late dinner.

Marco seemed pleased that the paramedic team was there and handed each of them a plate as they pulled up chairs and settled down wearily to the table. A tray of red coated enchiladas presided over the center of the table, with a bowl of steaming rice nestled in beside it. A milk carton was circling around the table, as well as the ever present coffee pot.

There was complete silence as the men dished out the food and poured the drinks. The clatter of metal silverware dominated the room for several minutes before it was replaced by sighs of bliss and hearty congratulations to the chef of the day.

“Great food, Lopez! You sure one of your family didn’t sneak this in when we were out on the runs?” The captain queried the lineman, reaching for a second helping of the rice.

Marco shook his head. “Nah, mama likes to make sure we all have at least basic skills in the kitchen. The recipe is from mi abuela – I’m going to have her cook something up for you guys – you won’t believe her food!”

There were murmurs of assent as even the normally reserved Mike Stoker added his comments to the mix. Heads down, forks moving in rapid motions, none of the men noticed that the youngest man on their crew had only put a spoonful of rice on his plate and had only managed one bite of it, before getting up and scraping the contents of his plate in the trash. John rinsed his plate and set it on the counter by his silverware; he contemplated his unused milk glass for a moment before putting it back in the cupboard. Coffee cup in hand, he moved out of the room after slapping the cook on the shoulder.

Chet Kelly finally looked up from his emptied plate and looked over at Roy. “Geesh, DeSoto, how can he eat that fast? And where does he put it all? If he stands sideways, you can’t even see the guy!”

Smiling, Roy let out a satisfied groan and pushed back an inch from the table. “I think Johnny burns it off as fast as he inhales it, Chet. There’s been a couple of rescues since we’ve been partners where I’ve lost ten pounds just watching him in action!”

Dick Hammer looked over at his paramedic, contently laying down his own silverware on his empty plate. “He lose that headache, DeSoto?”

Roy paused in his motions to get up from his chair. He rubbed his neck in thought, mentally tracking backwards through the four runs. He realized he hadn’t given his partner’s headache a second thought after leaving the station for the first run. The paramedic team was still getting used to working together, especially on the medical calls that were new to everyone. But thinking back on it, Roy realized that his partner had stayed in the background on all four calls, handling the biophone and hanging back from the victims, while also letting Roy ride in the ambulance on the two transports. Even at the hospital, the normally gregarious Gage had simply waited for his partner outside by the exit doors.

“Not really sure…I’ll go find out,” he finally replied, getting to his feet and taking care of his dishes. Not seeing John in the locker room, he went through the door and into the dorm, where he saw his partner stretched out flat on his bed.

Dark hair still damp from a fast shower, Gage was in long johns and a clean t-shirt. His bunker pants, stuffed into his boots, were already in place by the side of his bed; his arms were crossed behind his head and his eyes closed. Feeling Roy’s presence, he opened his eyes and looked questioningly at his partner. Roy sat down on his own bed and leaned back with a contented, stomach full sigh.

“I think Lopez is going to be the hands on favorite cook on A shift, although we may all gain a few pounds after a few meals of food like that…” John merely grunted his assent and closed his eyes again. Roy tried again.

“Cap wanted to know how you were feeling, still got that headache?”

Gage coughed slightly and finally answered in a soft tone, “still there, but not as bad.”

Roy moved to his feet and looked down at his partner. “Did you get checked out after that hose slapped you around? You sure you didn’t get a concussion?”

“Yes, I got checked out, at the hospital, and by the big man himself,” he replied in annoyance, an expression of distaste flitting briefly across his face. He was still uneasy, and slightly distrustful of Dr. Kelly Brackett. Even though the good doctor had reversed his opinion on the paramedic program and had stood up for it when it counted the most, Gage still didn’t feel comfortable around him. If he hadn’t been so sore and tired on that overtime shift, he would have probably got into another confrontation with Brackett during his exam. The doctor had been almost rude and definitely condescending in some of his questions and comments to the exhausted fireman; John had wisely kept his thoughts to himself and answered in monosyllables only when he had to.

“Really, Roy, just let me get some rest, kay?” Gage dismissed his partner’s attentions by pulling up his legs and sliding under the sheet and blanket and rolling onto his side. He slid further under the covers until only the top of his head was visible and curled into a tight ball.

“Yeah, yeah that does sound like a good idea. Maybe I’ll do the same……early night for once…..” Roy turned sharply on his heel and left the dorm, seeking out Captain Hammer to fill him in; he then took a shower hoping for some relief from the heat that seemed to be still wafting through the station, even though the sun had set several hours before.

In his bunker pants and clean shirt, suspenders hanging down, Roy poked his head into the day room to see what the rest of the crew was up to. The engine crew was gathered around the tv against the far wall; judging by the campy horror show that was playing, Chet must have gained control of the channel. A bowl of popcorn was making its way back towards Stoker, who was sitting in the chair closest to Roy. Roy stepped into the room and swiped the bowl from Mike’s hands before it started back the other way, and helped himself to a handful of the buttered, salted snack. Mike shot him a look, but accepted the bowl back and passed it back down the other way.

Roy had enough time to down his popcorn when a crack of thunder startled all of the men in the room. Twenty seconds later the sound of rain hitting the roof brought smiles and exclamations out of the firemen, who as a group temporarily abandoned the movie and made their way to the back door.

“There goes the heat wave!” Chet exclaimed, relief in his voice. He scurried back to the television as the other four looked at each other, not voicing what they were also thinking……..here goes the stupid accidents!

Thirty minutes passed before Roy decided he had seen enough of the movie; he really didn’t want thoughts of mutant grasshoppers invading his sleep. He trudged his way into the dorm, leaving the lights off and finding his way to his bed by the occasional flares of lightning. Judging by his partner’s slow, even breathing, he had finally succumbed to sleep. Roy yawned and stepped out of his turnouts, sliding under the sheet but pushing the blanket to the bottom of his bunk. Hopefully he could catch some sleep before the calls started rolling in.

His partner HAD finally fell asleep thirty minutes before the storm hit, but the thunder had woken him up, leaving him slightly disoriented and groggy. He listened to DeSoto settle himself, before stretching himself out and sitting up. The klaxons sounded and the light went on; the paramedics immediately stepped into their pants and boots and moved toward the bay. The call was for the engine only and Roy turned back to his bunk, while John headed for the kitchen.

Scrounging through the cupboards, he found a sleeve of saltine crackers and then filled a glass with water. Nibbling and sipping, he opened the back door and stood in the doorway contemplating the falling rain. He shivered as the damp air brushed across his flushed skin, and instinctively laid the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Gotta be the flu,” he muttered in disgust, feeling the heat. Closing the door, he dumped the remains of his water in the sink and tossed the crackers into a glass canister on the counter. Going out into the bay, he debated about digging through the equipment and pulling out the thermometer, but decided against it. He moved into the locker room, opened his locker, and shrugged on his navy blue jacket. He pulled out the aspirin bottle and shaking three into his hand, he tossed the bottle back in and closed the door softly. This time he chased the pills down with a handful of water from the sink.

Returning to the dorm, he slid out of the turnouts and slipped back under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. Fingers laced together and arms behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling and thought about that day’s runs. The tree rescue brought a brief smile as he mused about the stoic kids and their frantic parent. It was great seeing his friend Drew again, it had been awhile since the men had hung out together and John resolved to give him a call and see if they could coordinate their schedules. Roy had definitely been right about that safety belt though; John felt like every muscle in his body was on fire.

A scowl crossed his face as he mentally backed up to that first call of the day. Captain Hammer had pulled both paramedics aside between the later runs and had given them some information. It seemed that the victim in the car had been on his way to his daughter’s wedding; the boulder had come off a truck in front of the car and crashed through the windshield. Gage swallowed hard, trying to force down the bile rising in his throat, as he desperately tried to block out the unwanted images that replayed themselves over and over again in his mind.

Thankfully, he was distracted by the sound of the garage door going up. Seconds later the klaxons sounded and the lights came on, summoning the station to a vehicle over the road in Topanga Canyon. John went to the radio and responded to the transmission, writing down the address and pulling up his suspenders over his jacket simultaneously. Looking out the bay door, he could see the steady downpour of rain outside; he grabbed his turnout coat, seeing his partner do the same, and trotted to the engine door. He handed the dark haired engineer, waiting patiently in the rumbling engine, the call slip and jumped into the cab of the squad, grabbing his helmet and strapping it on as Roy followed the Crown Firecoach out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Navigating their way down the slick roads through the late Saturday night traffic, the squad and the engine finally turned onto the canyon road. Five minutes later, John directed Roy’s attention to the flashing lights of the sheriff’s car pulled over on the cliff side of the road. His head slightly out of the open window, Gage could clearly see the missing guardrail even in the torrential downpour that was drumming a steady beat on his helmet. Like a turtle, he pulled his head in and rolled up the window. He glanced over at Roy while pulling up the collar of his coat.

“I sure hope there’s only one car over that edge…”

Yeah, me too,” Roy agreed, pulling to the side of the road and angling the truck so that the headlights shone on the gap toothed rail. Mike parked directly in front of the opening, anticipating the need for the ropes to be tied to the front.

All of the men made their way across the wet pavement and joined the deputy standing on the muddy shoulder, flashlight pointed down the steep hill. He raised his helmeted head and greeted the crew with a nod, waving his hand and pointing down.

“Witness states that the car was speeding, lost control, and slid right thru the rail and over the embankment. Haven’t heard any signs of life, but then again,” Vince Howard shrugged and indicated with a gloved hand the noisiness of the rain and the occasional thunder.

The paramedics, standing closest to the edge, looked at each other.

“Geesh…” Roy muttered, turning on his heel and heading toward the squad, Johnny at his heels.

“My thoughts exactly,” replied Johnny, grabbing the ropes as his partner pulled out the belts and flashlights. They could hear Hammer shouting orders at the engine crew to set up lights and ready the stokes as they slammed the compartment doors and squished their way to the front of the engine. Lopez and Kelly tied off their respective ropes to the hooks while the two rescue men secured their belts and knotted off their lines. Gage checked the deep pocket of his coat for the ht and added his flashlight; satisfied that everything was ready, he took a deep breath and shot a sideways glance at DeSoto. Roy nodded and together they began their descent, feeling the tension on their lines as the men manned the lines above them.

Slipping and sliding his way through the mud and brush, Gage let out an exclamation as his feet went out from under him and dropped to his knees; the air whooshed out of his lungs in a startled gasp as his safety belt jerked upwards and tightened around him.

“More slack for Johnny!” Roy cried out, accessing the situation in a glance and stopping his own downward slide. As the rope loosened, his partner fell flat on his back, feet pointed uphill. “You ok Johnny?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gage coughed in reply, grabbing the rope to sit up, then pulling himself upwards and to his feet. “These blasted boots!”

Roy grinned at the sight of his partner – the front of him was dripping wet with rain while the back of him was dripping with mud. His helmet had remained on but was tipped almost vertically on the back of his head; even as he watched, his bedraggled partner was jerking in irritation at the strangling chin strap. Pulling his glove off with his teeth, he finally was able to loosen the strap and push the helmet forward.

“Over there!” Roy shouted, pointing over to Gage’s right and down about twenty feet. Both men moved sideways and then slowly down the remaining distance. Lying on its roof, a Volkswagen van was settled in the dirt, the driver’s side parallel to the slope of the hill.

Hunkering down on his heels and resting his right hand on the frame, Johnny tipped his head and peered into the interior, his left hand using his flashlight to illuminate.

“Hey man, what took you so long?” A lazy, drawled out voice asked him, a cloud of smoke wafting out the window and enveloping the paramedic.

“Hell…..!” John muttered under his breath, instinctively pulling back and coughing as the pot fumes wafted over him. “You all right? Anybody……(cough) else in there?” (Cough, cough)

“Yeah man, my chick, she’s like out ya know? Can you get us out of here? I feel like a bat, man, hanging upside down…wow, a real rush! My chick, like, fastened my seat belt, and it won’t let me go……kinda stuck, like….” He rambled on, waving the hand that held the joint.

Coughing uncontrollably, Gage pulled off a glove, reached up under his coat, pulled his scissors out of his pouch, dropped to his knees and reached in to cut the belt. “Put that thing out, “he coughed out, trying to see past his streaming eyes.

“But man, that’s the good stuff! It’s gold!” The man protested, arms still waving as John tried to find the belt and get a grip on the flailing arms.

“You’ve gotta hold still!” Seriously annoyed, miserable, wet, and about ready to toss his cookies, John Gage was finding it hard to maintain his composure and his professionalism. He stuck the scissors between his teeth, lunged in through the window, and grabbed the man’s wrist. Grabbing the joint in his ungloved hand, he smashed it against his wet turnout coat, wincing as the lit tip burned his palm.

The stoned man paused in his nonsensical dialogue, finally noticing his empty fingers. “Where’d it go? Hey, what ya doin…?” Gage didn’t reply, too busy squirming his way between the man’s lap and the steering wheel. Grunting, he dropped awkwardly, outstretched arms first, onto the floor, or rather the ceiling, between the seats. Rising to his knees, he checked the passenger’s neck for a carotid pulse and was relieved to find a strong one. He sighed in annoyance when he noticed smoke drifting up from another lit joint somewhere near the unconscious woman; finding that and putting it out would have to wait for the moment. He turned back to her male companion and studied him for a moment by the light of his partner’s flashlight shining through the interior. He had a feeling that he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask the man, but asked it anyway.

“You have any pain…are you hurt anywhere?” He queried, carefully and quickly running his hands down the driver’s legs and arms checking for fractures.

“Nah, it’s real cool. What a wild ride down, man…”

“Yeah, ok….look, I’m going to cut the belt, but first I’m going to check your neck for injury…then I’m going to shift you a little and take some of your weight, so you don’t fall on your head when I cut the belt. Roy, can you get his legs?” Roy answered by leaning in through the window and wrapping his arms around the man’s jean clad legs.

Trying to stifle his coughing, the younger paramedic angled the driver slightly toward him, as much as the lap belt would allow, and tried to take some of his weight. He cut the belt and with his partner’s help carefully maneuvered the now quiet man up and out the window, trying to keep his neck and back straight.

“I’m going to check out the passenger, gonna need a collar. Think we can get a backboard in here?” Gage asked Roy, kneeling on the seat back and handing the ht to him. Roy looked over at him as he helped the driver into the stokes that Marco had brought down.

“Yeah…short board maybe….” Johnny nodded and moved clumsily back to the space between the seats and began assessing the young woman. He rocked back on his heels after checking her out and fished deep into the pocket of his turnout coat. He snapped the vial in two under her nose and was rewarded with an immediate return to consciousness as she choked and coughed her way to alertness.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a paramedic with the fire department…my name is John, what’s yours?” He asked as she stared at him with glassy eyes, blinking slowly as she looked at him and then tried to turn her head. “No, try and stay still while I check you out. Do you have any pain?” He laid his still ungloved hand on her stomach to check her respirations.

“Melanie….no, no I’m fine…what happened…where’s Dwayne?” She gasped out, moving her gaze back to the paramedic kneeling by her side. “Wow, you look as high as I feel, baby…..that feels totally sweet…..”

Johnny immediately dropped his hands to his sides, but couldn’t help smirking. She was right about the high part; he definitely had a buzz going on. From past experience, he knew he had a low tolerance for drugs, even in small quantities. They affected him fast and seemed to linger in his body for a long time. He was really going to have to focus…..

“What’s the…uh…status on the board and collar, Roy?” He called out, feeling a hand grabbing the leg of his bunker pants as he half stood and leaned towards the driver’s window. Glancing down, he could see that Melanie had hold of him and was trying to pull him back towards her. “No…ahhh!”

A string of expletives flashed through his head as the one mud encrusted boot he had precariously planted on the floor(ceiling) shot out from under him and he landed in an impossibly tangled heap between the upside down seats. He found himself face to face with the girl, who was definitely leering at him. Do girls leer? He wondered idly, watching as her hand stroked his bruised face and she winked at him. Definitely on something stronger then pot, too. His eyes shifted sideways to the smoke pluming gently across his face, and he unconsciously took in a deep breath, which resulted in another bout of harsh coughing.

“John….Johnny….you’re so nice…are you going to rescue me? Breathe deep, baby, and let it take you for a ride…. Your face is so pretty with all those colors…and your eyes…I can see your soul…”

Roy couldn’t help but snicker as he looked through the window, leaning on the short backboard as he pushed it through the opening. His apparently dazed partner was in a contorted heap, arms and legs in four different directions. The girl looked like she was giving him mouth to mouth; she was that close to him. Hearing his partner’s snort of laughter, Gage came back to life and struggled to get his feet under him. Even in the dim light, Roy thought he could see a blush creeping up his partner’s dirty, wet and already flushed face. “You need a hand there, Gage?”

“No, no, jus’ let me get…uh upright…..come on, Melanie, hold still now….” Somehow the embarrassed paramedic managed to get the collar around her neck, cut her seatbelt, and slide her partway onto the board, all the while trying to fend off her groping hands. Roy crawled partly in and grabbed the end of the board; he began wiggling backward with the assistance of the engine’s linemen.

“Don’t leave me Johnny…” Melanie cried out as she began moving backwards with the board. She reached out a hand and, unfortunately for the flustered fireman, managed to get a hand, and a fierce grip on him, between the legs…

“Shi…!” He screamed out, jerking free and falling backwards, slamming into the door and closed window of the van. He grunted in pain as first his back impacted the door, and then his head snapped back into the glass. There was a sudden silence as everyone in and outside of the vehicle froze as the van shifted in the mud.

Swallowing back his apprehension, DeSoto manhandled the board and the girl out of the van. The three firemen laid the now silent girl into the stokes and Roy quickly turned back to help his partner. To his relief, John was already attempting to crawl out and he assisted him out and down onto the ground, where the beleaguered young man stretched out onto his stomach and lay panting.

Seeing that Lopez and Kelly were on their way up the hill with the stokes, Roy crouched down next Gage and laid a careful hand on his shoulder. “You ok there, John?”

The object of his concerned attention rolled an eye at him, squinting up through the pouring rain and still coughing slightly. “How about…next time….you go first?”

“Done deal, partner,” Roy answered, relieved that his new partner seemed to be ok. He paused when Johnny managed to roll partly over and reached up a hand to shove something at him. He took the now completely doused marijuana joint from the other man’s fingers and looked in puzzlement at him. Gage grinned weakly at him.

“Gotta prevent forest fires, ya know? Get rid of that, will ya?”

Roy scrambled to his feet and obliged by grinding the offending joint into the ground. He then reached down to assist Gage up; it took several tries but finally his partner was on his feet. Johnny reached a hand up to his wet head and realized something was missing.

“Awwww man, my helmet is gone again!”

“Leave it Johnny, just leave it, ok?” Roy grabbed his arm as he turned back towards the van. Gage looked at him and then back at the van, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned gesture.

“Yeah, think you got a point there,” he muttered, picking up the rope while searching one handedly through his pockets for his glove. Both men began the slow climb back up the hill.

They were almost to the top when Roy stumbled and went down on one knee. John crow hopped sideways and helped him up. “What happened?”

“Think I found a hole – my foot found it anyways….” He answered, wincing as he put weight on his foot. “Think I twisted my ankle.”

“Huh, good thing we’re almost to the top. I don’t think the guys would appreciate hauling another stokes up!” The men grinned at each other; Roy threw his arm over his partner’s shoulder and together they hauled themselves to the top, where several pairs of willing hands assisted them.

Learning that squad 36 had taken care of their extracted victims, who were now on route to the hospital for observation, Johnny helped Roy hobble over to the squad. Roy sat down on the passenger side, legs hanging out while Gage tried to pull his boot off. After the third unsuccessful attempt to pull off the boot resulted in his partner landing on his butt on the pavement, laughing, Roy had a sudden realization. He leaned forward, pen light in hand, and waved at his giggling partner, still sitting on the ground.

“Gage, look at me.” John smirked but did as directed, wincing as the light played across his face. DeSoto looked at his dilated pupils and shook his head in disbelief. “How much of that smoke did you inhale, exactly?”

“Jus enough for me to forget what a sh..uh lousy day I’ve been having!” Gage threw back at him, flashing him his crooked grin. Aside from that brief exchange on the hillside, Roy realized that was the first time he had seen the younger man genuinely smile all shift. He gasped as his boot finally came off, and felt Johnny’s hands checking his slightly swollen ankle.

“Doesn’t seem broken. Want me to….ahhh ….. wrap it before you head over to Rampart?”

“Sure….” Roy leaned wearily against the side of the seat and closed his eyes. He could hear Johnny noisily getting the supplies out of the compartment, and then felt his ankle being wrapped. The sound of his boot being dropped into the cab roused him, and he obligingly swung his legs into the truck with his partner’s assistance. He looked up as the other man leaned against the open door and ran a slightly trembling hand across his face.

“Ya know, Roy, I think maybe I’ve got..” whatever disclosure John was going to make was cut off by their captain appearing behind them. He slapped a hand on Gage’s shoulder and peered in at Roy.

“That ankle broke, DeSoto?”

“No sir, just twisted it or maybe sprained it. Doesn’t feel bad at all since Johnny wrapped it.”

“Good. Get your partner over to the hospital to get checked out, Gage.”

“Uh, cap, maybe you could get Lopez or Kelly to drive the squad in. I’m not feeling very clearheaded right now, kinda took in some of that marijuana smoke…”

Hammer moved back a step and lifted his hand to shine his light up and over the still leaning fireman, who was now jiggling a leg slightly. His paramedic squinted back at him, water running down his helmetless head and joining the mud, which coated the back AND the front of his turnouts, to pool at his feet.

“Gage, you need a trip to Rampart too?” Gage shot a “help me” look over to his partner, who shrugged and lifted his hands in a noncommittal gesture.

“Nah, I’m good, just need some time and some dry clothes.”

“Get Stoker to hose you off before you climb into the engine,” Hammer ordered, heading away from the squad with the bedraggled paramedic close behind him. “And Gage, where the hell is your helmet this time?”

Roy smiled as he turned slightly in his seat to watch the men move off; his partner seemed to be sinking lower into his boots as their captain berated him over the missing helmet. Stoker pulled the line off the truck and sprayed Gage down, who slowly turned in a circle with arms outstretched.

The sound of the driver’s side door opening caught DeSoto’s attention and he reluctantly closed his own door and looked over at Chet Kelly, who had apparently won the job of chauffer.

“You would think, right, that after all these years the fire department would get rid of all those open cabbed rigs? I mean, come on, I know it doesn’t rain that….” Roy slid down in his seat a little more as Kelly began a discussion on the merits of the open cabbed trucks versus the closed. He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose as the smell of, well, wet firemen assaulted his nostrils, debating whether to open his window. He mentally shook his head at the idea and decided instead to catch a few minutes of sleep, confident that Chet’s voice would lead him into the land of Nod. As he dozed off, he wondered if Kelly was going to be the talkative one of their crew, definitely not Stoker or Lopez. As for Gage, well that remained to be seen; he seemed to be opening up more…nah, there was no way Johnny was going to be the outspoken one of their shift!

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just borrowing the characters, they belong to Universal and Mark VII. I’ve always wished the writers would have, could have, continued some of the story lines throughout the series, instead of each episode being a stand alone. The obvious dislike between John Gage and Kel Brackett in the pilot movie just disappeared….so wanted to play with that a little!

John Gage climbed slowly into Kelly’s seat on the engine, trying but failing to keep his teeth from chattering. He slumped miserably in the seat, flashing Marco, already seated, a brief smile before wearily closing his eyes. The advantages and disadvantages of being a paramedic, he mused, as he checked his pulse to see if it was still racing. Taking his own vitals and knowing what the results meant could be a good or bad thing. Thankfully, his pulse was slower now, that bit of smoke he had breathed in was hopefully working its way out of his system. He definitely could feel himself crashing. He slit his eyes open a crack and turned his head sideways again to look at Marco, who was looking right back at him.

“You ok? That girl got a pretty good hold on you.” The concern was evident in his voice and the way he leaned in his seat towards Gage, as if to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Johnny grimaced, partly in discomfort but mostly in remembered embarrassment. “Yeah, thank God for the heavy pants. I think she startled me more than anything.”

He made another face and rubbed the back of his head, wincing at the small bump his fingers encountered. Nothing like falling backwards on his own tail, twice, in front of the victim and his partner. Not to mention laying there like an idiot, sucking up smoke, while that doped up chick put the moves on him. Although, come to think of it, she was a pretty good looking chick, with that long blond hair, legs that….sheesh, get a grip Gage!

His hands dropped to his knees, nervously tapping. He splayed his fingers flat, noticing with relief that his hands now seemed steady. He wondered if Roy had noticed his shaking hands when he had wrapped his ankle…..what if squad 36 hadn’t been there to back them up? John seriously doubted that he could have started an IV or even managed a simple splint if those people had been injured. His thoughts drifted back towards the single vehicle accident that he and Roy had responded to, after picking up Dixie at the hospital, on one of their first runs together; he vividly recalled standing there holding the drug box like a, well, like a girl selling cigarettes at a 50’s nightclub. Crap, all he needed was that strap to wrap around his neck and hook to the box, so he would have had his hands free. Then the cop on the scene had asked them to help direct traffic, for Pete’s sake! That had really ticked him off. (1)

Self-doubt, about his actions on the rescue and especially his newly won medic skills, began to creep slowly through him on soft padded feet. The “what ifs?” were piling up and slamming against his skull, adding to the torment already swirling around in his pounding head. He slumped down even further into the seat, huddling into his thoroughly soaked turnout coat. Coughing slightly, he tipped his head back, letting the rain pelt his face.

The Hispanic lineman, watching Gage’s nervous movements, shook his head and pulled the collar of his own coat up tighter around his neck. He wondered briefly about why the paramedic seemed to be self-inflicting pain on himself, by letting the sharp, pierces of water pummel him in the face. Just the sound of it smacking his helmet was giving him a headache. “You both did a good job of pulling that couple out of the van. Another few minutes, you would have been going on your own slip and slide ride down that hill.”

Johnny raised his hand slightly to acknowledge the other man’s words, but kept his head back and eyes closed. Encouraging words, to be sure, from someone he didn’t really know that well. Even though the A shift crew had been together only a month or so, they seemed to work well together. The three single men on the shift had even gone out once or twice on their days off for some beers and a few games of friendly, well mostly friendly, pool. He didn’t quite feel at ease yet with Chet Kelly; the man seemed to be always sizing him up for something or staring at him with a smirk on his face, like he was planning something. From what he had observed of Kelly at work, though, he was a good fireman and definitely a team player.

But Marco, on the other hand, seemed to be ok both at work and away from it. He was easy going, had a large family of siblings and cousins that he seemed to be at ease with, and was always quick with a word of praise, a joke, or a carefully worded suggestion of how to do something better. And Roy was right, the man could definitely put the chow together for a great meal.

Wiping futilely at the water dripping from his hair, the young man dropped his head and sighed, and glanced sideways again. Marco was still watching him, his face occasionally illuminated when the clouds slid away from the light of the almost full moon. Tiredness was clearly evident on the other man’s face but he was clearly ignoring it. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, and Johnny had no qualms that it had something to do with him or his actions. Great, now there was someone else having doubts about him and the way he had performed his job. The sincere offer of encouragement and praise from Marco was quickly forgotten as paranoia enveloped him in its dark tentacles. It would have been clear to anyone else that the marijuana was wreaking havoc on the sable haired paramedic, but for Johnny it was just another added brick on the impenetrable wall slowly building around him.

Slapping his knee in frustration and anger, Johnny deliberately turned his body away from Marco, effectively telling the other man that their conversation was ended. He again offered his face up to the punishing onslaught of water pouring from the heavens, hoping the discomfort would distract him from his dark, boiling thoughts.

Lopez watched his crewman; it was like looking through the lenses of one of those Viewmaster toys, every emotion and thought vividly flashing across Gage’s face one at a time. He winced as the other man pointedly turned his back on him, and then lifted his now carefully blank face to the rain. Having had his own handful of experiences with drugs, Marco could really understand and empathize with whatever was going on in Gage’s head. It just seemed that it was hitting him awfully hard, maybe because of his weakened state? Marco wasn’t quite sure, but he would keep an eye on him. Gage really seemed like good guy, maybe a little naïve and gullible at times, but definitely someone to count on as a friend; more importantly, he knew he could count on him to back him up on a hose or would trust his judgment implicitly when it came down to split second decisions during a rescue.

Marco debated on whether or not he should voice his thoughts. Probably not, considering the unreceptive and clearly annoyed mood Johnny seemed to be wallowing in. He probably wouldn’t remember any of this anyway, at least he hoped so. The engine roaring to life put a stop to any further thoughts of attempting conversation between the two firemen; Marco settled in for the long, wet ride back to the station.

Roy DeSoto jolted awake as the squad came to a jerking halt in front of the emergency doors of Rampart hospital. He shot Chet a glare, rubbing the back of his stiff neck and trying to stretch the kinks out of his back.

“What?” Kelly asked innocently, lifting an open hand in a placating gesture towards Roy. “I’m really not used to driving this matchbox truck of yours.”

Roy just shook his head and swung himself carefully out, gingerly putting weight on his injured ankle. Not too bad, he thought, splashing his way through the puddles on the pavement. Chet caught up to him as he paused to let the doors swing open, and grasped him by the elbow. “Hey, shouldn’t I get you a wheelchair or something?”

“Nope, just see if you can find someone. Doesn’t look too bad for a rainy Saturday night,” Desoto answered, heading for the nurses’ desk, where he could see the two paramedics from 36 leaning.

“Hey Desoto, nice rescue! Bang yourself up a little?” The shorter of the two paramedics queried, watching Roy’s limping progress.

“Twisted my ankle a bit coming back up the hill. How’s the uh….couple doing that you brought in?”

Jack Collins snorted and bumped elbows with his partner. “Feeling no pain, that’s for sure! Hey, what did Gage do to that girl down there, anyway? Once she got in the ambulance, she couldn’t stop talking about the “dreamy fireman” who saved her. Sure brought her boyfriend down to the earth, thought he was going to throttle her! Johnny had better watch out!”

Not about to rat his partner out about his slightly high condition, Roy shrugged. “Just that ole Gage charm we keep seeing with anything that is female, no matter what the age……”

“Where is your charming partner, anyways? Isn’t that Kelly heading in our direction?” Collins pointed down the hallway at Chet sloshing in their direction, the head of the emergency department striding alongside of him.

“Yeah, that’s Kelly. Gage went back to the station to try and get some sleep; he worked a 24 over at 10s before coming on this morning.” Roy stepped away from the desk as Dr. Kelly Brackett stopped and looked him over.

“Roy…..Kelly here tells me you twisted your ankle. Let’s go into treatment room 2 and take a look.”

“Sure doc, thanks.” The paramedic waved a hand in departure at the other firemen and followed the dark haired doctor into the room. After removing his turnout coat and dropping it into the corner, he hoisted himself up on the exam table and stoically endured the unwrapping of his ankle and the gentle prodding that followed.

Looking up at the nurse who had followed them into the room, Brackett straightened up and carefully let go of Roy’s foot. “Jean, get a set of vitals on Roy here. I don’t think it is broken, Roy, but we’ll get an x-ray to make sure.”

“That’s what Johnny thought too. That’s a huge relief, Doctor Brackett. Think I can finish my shift?”

The doctor crossed his arms and his mouth twitched slightly at the corner as he pondered. “Let’s see what the x-rays say, and go from there. Definitely no climbing or strenuous activity. Is your shift about over, or are you on a 48?”

DeSoto glanced at his watch, almost one in the morning. “About seven more hours to go…”

Once the nurse had finished taking the vitals and left the room to check on the portable x-ray machine, Brackett looked at his now relaxed patient. “Well Roy, is the paramedic program what you thought it would be?”

“Yeah, yeah it is, doc. I mean, it’s still all pretty unfamiliar to us, but it feels like it’s starting to come together and we’re getting more comfortable with everything,” Roy slowly smiled up at the doctor. “Does that make sense?”

Brackett smiled back. “Yes it does. I have to admit, I still have some doubts, but everything I have seen and heard so far admittedly points to a long and successful program. Obviously, there are going to be some bumps in the road, but I think if we address those concerns as they occur this whole “almost doctor at the scene” scenario is going to work just fine.” Kelly paused and ran a thoughtful hand across his chin. “And your new partner, how’s that working out?”

“Johnny? He’s just great. He’s reacts instinctively and quickly to every situation. It feels right, us being partners. We seem to balance each other out.”

“Meaning what, exactly? That your level and cool responses balance out his stubborn and hot headed reactions? Or that you have to keep a tight rope on him to keep him from jumping, “quickly”, with both feet into a dangerous situation?”

Roy’s mouth dropped open slightly and he blinked rapidly in both surprise and shock at the doctor’s words and the sarcastic tone used. He remembered Johnny’s own sarcastic tone concerning the “big man himself” when he had asked him about a possible concussion.

The irate paramedic straightened up fully on the table and leaned forward, balancing a palm on each side of his taut body. “What’s going on here, doc? You just took my positive comments regarding Gage, twisted them, and threw them back at me. You have some kind of complaint or problem with my “new” partner, you’d better spit it out now!”

Brackett quickly took a step back at the other man’s angry tone and defensive posture. “Ok, ok, I admit that just came out wrong. Roy, all of you paramedics are my responsibility, whether you or I like it or not. Every time I have dealings with Gage he challenges or argues with every word out of my mouth. He’s a damn fireman, not a doctor with over twelve years of training under his belt!”

The doctor took another step backward and sank down on the rolling stool, as realization sank in at the words he had just spat out. Roy just stared at him, waiting…..Brackett sighed, and looked sheepishly up and over at the completely still younger man.

“Looks like I just put my foot in my mouth, again. I’m sorry, DeSoto, I guess I could blame this outburst on sheer exhaustion, but we would both know better. I seem to have focused in on your young partner as a scapegoat for everything that has transgressed in the last month or so, including my very slow and reluctant approval of the paramedic program. Nurse McCall would be the first one to tell you that I am as stubborn and hard headed as they come.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you and Johnny have more in common than you would like to admit, Doc. I’m seeing that same stubbornness coming out of him, especially when he knows he’s right. He’s definitely not going to back down on something, as you very well know, and he’s MOST DEFINATELY not going to be afraid of confrontation, especially with you.”

“I know that, I’ve seen it several times over the last few months. I guess I’m not used to being bearded in my own den, so to speak. I think I owe your partner an apology, especially after this morning…”

“What happened this morning? John checked out ok, didn’t he?” Roy queried quietly, concern leaking into his voice.

Brackett, after taking a long look at the obviously worried paramedic, rose from his seated position and paced restlessly around the exam room, hands on his hips. He stopped and stared thoughtfully at DeSoto, wondering just how close the two men were becoming. In his opinion, the partners were like night and day, polar opposites of each other. Gage came across as opinionated, impetuous, quick with smart ass comments, and with a temper easily ignited. Roy, on the other hand, seemed cool headed, practical – you would have to push him pretty hard to see any outburst of emotion. In fact, Brackett had never heard him raise his voice in anger until two minutes ago.

The doctor circled around the table, resuming his pacing before replying to Roy’s questions.“He checked out just fine. You know I can’t give you any more details than that. He did give a pretty impressive display of jaw and fist clenching and aside from some grunts I didn’t get more than three words out of him. One of those words was a definite “NO” to the suggestion of a pain killer or muscle relaxer. Roy, I was brusque and downright rude to Gage, especially after he wouldn’t explain the reason for his injuries. He was certainly pushing all the right buttons with me, starting with his obvious reluctance to even let me examine him. Appeared to me that he didn’t trust me as a doctor, and from that point on I’m afraid I let my temper and impartiality escalate out of control.” Kel finally stopped his pacing, crossed his arms, and leaned against the side of the exam table, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“John knows you’re a good doctor; he’s never had any doubts there. And he wouldn’t have been able to return to work with any kind of meds in him….And he got those bruises from subduing an out of control hose, that someone else let loose.” Roy thought a moment, trying to remember how his partner had acted when Dr. Joe Early had checked them both out a week earlier; they had both taken in excessive smoke at a structure fire and as a precaution had been checked out. Johnny had been silent but slightly skittish, flinching and subtlety leaning away when Early had “invaded his space”. Roy had noticed it though, and simply chalked it up to Gage still running high on adrenaline. “I think Gage doesn’t like to be on the receiving end of medical care. I know he doesn’t like needles when they’re aimed at him!”

“All right, I’ll try not to take that personally. I still don’t understand why he wouldn’t explain his injuries; it actually caused me to think that he had been careless on the job and didn’t want to admit it. But I can say this, DeSoto, your partner seems to have an awfully high tolerance for pain. You’d better keep an eye on that.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to realize the same thing myself, along with a few other weird things,” Roy whispered to himself in reply, as the doors swung open revealing the rolling x-ray machine and the technician. Roy obediently laid back on the table, thoughts swirling, something nagging at him. What HAD Johnny been about to tell him before the captain interrupted them?

___________________________________________________________________

  1. From the Emergency episode World Premier, written by Cinader and Bloom.




	7. Chapter 7

The subject of their discussion was now standing in the shower stall, letting the hot water sluice down his shivering and aching body. What was this, his third shower of the shift, he mused, finally shutting the flow off and reaching for his towel outside of the door. The locker room was already empty when he stepped out; the whole station seemed silent except for the dripping of water off of the roof. The rain had finally let up as the weary crew backed into the station; judging by the absence of sound, the rest of the men had hit their bunks for some sleep.

After toweling himself off vigorously, but mindful of his colorful bruises, John drew on boxer shorts and t-shirt. He looked longingly at his previously warm thermal pants lying discarded across the bench; unfortunately the powerful stream of water that Stoker had blasted him with had cunningly sliced its way between his turnout coat and bunker pants and soaked him from the waist down. Feeling the warmth of the hot water already dissipating from his skin, he sighed and dropped heavily to the wooden bench in front of his locker. He rummaged in his gear bag and yanked out his last pair of clean navy blue pants and black socks and dragged them on. He fingered the ironed shirt hanging next to his civvies, but decided against it. If he wore the shirt, he would have to pin on the badge, nametag, and paramedic pin; he really didn’t need things poking him in the chest when he was trying to catch some rest.

Of course, his only uniform jacket was wet, too, thanks to the water rearing its mischievous head and wicking its way upwards. It also didn’t help that he had purposely lifted his face to the downpour and created a perfect funnel down his neck. He snatched both wet garments and flung them into the bottom of the locker, resisting the urge to slam the door. He paused, resting his damp head against the wood, debating whether to throw the wet garments and his turnouts into the dryer. Nope, he decided the turnouts probably still had several pounds of mud on them and would need a serious cleaning; it all could wait until morning.

He moved out into the apparatus bay and paused, wondering exactly where his drenched turnout coat had ended up at. Shrugging, he rummaged through the equipment closet and located his spare coat. He separated it from the rest and moved it on its hangar to the end of the pole. Satisfied, he padded in his socks to the kitchen, carrying his black leather boots, which he set down by the door. He moved over to the range and flicked on the light over it; he stared at it for a moment before grabbing a glass out of the cupboard to the side of it and filling it with water. He sipped it slowly, washing down the aspirin clutched in his hand.

Nixing the idea of making a strong, hot pot of coffee, he snuck into the dorm and pulled his blanket off the bed. He was surprised to see his bunkers already sitting by the side of his bunk. Puzzled, he sat down on the edge and ran his hand over the boots, securely tucked into the pants. They were wet, but mud free. Apparently one of the guys had given them a thorough cleaning while he had been in the shower. Marco, probably, judging by the way he had quickly trotted around the side of the engine and helped him pull off his dripping turnout coat; at that moment it had seemed an impossible task for Johnny to get the clasps undone with his numb fingers.

Minutes later, Marco had followed him into the locker area where the paramedic had limply collapsed on the bench, head in his hands. The Hispanic lineman had dropped a towel on John’s dripping hair; he had waited silently and patiently, a pool of water forming under his own bunker pants, until the other man had finally stirred to alertness and squinted up at him. Marco had simply nodded and moved on to his own locker to change and clean up.

Not a man of many words, sometimes, but the lineman sure could make up for it with his actions, Johnny thought, bringing himself back to the present. Wincing, he recalled his surly treatment of Lopez earlier. Trouble was, he couldn’t remember any of the conversation, only that he had been wrapped up in his own misery and had sullenly rebuffed the other man’s offered encouragement.

He cast a glance around the dorm at the sleeping men, wondering about this crew. They had been together less than a month, but yet they already seemed to work together like a piece of well-oiled machinery. Sure there were moments of awkward indecision and sometimes just plain comedic routines; just last shift, at a structure fire, Marco and Chet had both reached down for the hose at the same instant and smacked helmets together. Arms flailing and feet jitterbugging amongst the snarl of hoses snaking across the inky pavement, the two linemen had inadvertently entertained the gawking bystanders and had ended their Swan Lake routine with a pratfall worthy of the Three Stooges.

His gaze settled on the sleeping and snoring forms of the two linemen and then shifted farther left towards the engineer; he couldn’t see him but could hear the slight creaking of the bed and the rustling of the covers as Stoker stirred restlessly. Now there was a guy whose communication seemed to be made up of piercing looks and careful, parceled out smiles. Johnny was pretty sure he hadn’t heard more than five words come out of his mouth, and those had been, “Gage, nice to meet you.” Aside from the fact that Mike was a newly minted engineer and recently married, he hadn’t learned much about him. Add that to his “to do” list – get to know Mike Stoker. He grinned in the darkness, pulling the blanket across his legs and shoeless feet as he considered how long and fast that list was compiling.

And then there was their captain…another man of few words. He had heard that Hammer wasn’t going to stay long, but had consented to holding the reins of A shift until there was an opening at a station closer to his home. He had several years of experience as a captain and seemed to be a trustworthy and capable leader. But just like Captain Hookrader of C shift, he was not a captain that socialized outside of work with his crew.

Johnny thoughtfully ran a hand over his jaw, still not sure where he had seen Hammer before. Every time he looked at the stern countenance of his leader, it brought back vague memories of seeing him outside of work several years ago; he just couldn’t pin down where it had been and what they had been doing. Hammer had never given any indication that he had met the paramedic before, so hopefully if he had been doing something stupid the new captain hadn’t noticed him. Johnny just couldn’t shake the dreaded feeling that he HAD been involved in something that the new captain would not have approved of. Maybe that was why his memory was conveniently blocking the recollection…..

Thinking about the men surrounding him brought back flashbacks of his previous house; things here were definitely not the same as working over at 10’s with that large crew. He had started out there as a probie, and had been assigned there when his probation had finally ended. Several years later his luck had continued when he had finished his rescue training and a slot had opened up, partnering him with Tony Freeman. They had worked well together and did some things together off duty, but their friendship had never really progressed beyond work related events. Once Johnny had begun paramedic training, they had pretty much lost contact with each other except for crossing paths within the department. Sure, there were some phone calls and occasional social interactions between himself and some of the other guys over at 10’s – let’s go get a beer or bowl a few games – but working at a large station like 10’s was a far cry from being employed at this eighteen man house. The dynamics were completely different. Here it seemed that you were going to be part of a close knit team, on duty or not. John still hadn’t reconciled himself to that idea and wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

And Roy, well that was a whole different scenario. Johnny still wasn’t sure why he had asked him to partner up with him, and why he, in turn, had agreed so quickly. They sure didn’t seem to have a lot in common, except maybe their love and dedication for their job, and as far as their personalities…hell, he was beginning to wonder if boring or careful should be his partner’s middle name. Or maybe steadfast and cautious? Nothing wrong with any of it, in fact most of DeSoto’s traits were highly prized in the department and he would probably move up the command trail rapidly, leaving his egotistical, headstrong, willful partner in the dust. Gage grimaced, his mouth thinning to a narrow line as he mentally checked off all the names he had been called over the past three and a half years in the fire service, and compared them to his new partner’s character. Yep, they were definitely on opposite ends of the personality pole and Johnny debated just how long they would last together.

Rubbing his fingers under his eyes, the dark haired man sighed and eased himself back onto his bed, leaving his legs hanging over and feet flat on the floor. He hoped that since the pounding headache had subsided into a low throb it was sliding its way out. His stomach seemed to have settled, at least for now; in fact, maybe he should scrounge up something to eat, as his belly was now gurgling in hunger. He contemplated it for the briefest of moments, but his bruised body was not cooperating with his growling stomach or the galloping pace of his thoughts. He smirked at the warring factions and closed his eyes.

The doubt that had begun its insidious encroachment on his thoughts earlier, returned now in full force as soon as his physical surroundings receded to black behind his shuttered eyelids. His eyes shot open and he abruptly sat up, cursing inwardly and steadying himself on the mattress as a wave of dizziness assaulted him. He rose carefully to his feet, grabbed the blanket, and headed for the day room. Once there, he switched the television on, found an all-night channel, and settled down on the couch wrapping the thin, but warm material around his body. Hopefully the movie would bore him to sleep before his over active imagination took control of his thoughts again.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

That’s where Roy found him an hour later when he and Chet returned to the station. After shedding their turnout coats in the garage, Chet headed for his bunk while Roy made his way into the dimly lit room. He noticed that the light was on over the range as well as the small, cylinder shaped light over the station phones. Walking carefully, he was able to put all his weight on his injured ankle and he smiled slightly that it had ended so well.

Spying his partner hanging halfway off the couch, cocooned in a blanket, he believed the younger man was asleep. Roy let his smile expand and headed for the refrigerator for something to drink. After pouring himself a tall glass of milk and downing it in thirsty gulps, he headed for the door. He stopped when he saw movement from the couch.

“Hey Johnny…can’t sleep, huh?” He asked him, pulling a chair over and dropping wearily into it.

“Nah…how’s the ankle?” Gage replied, swinging his left leg down to the floor to join the other leg already there, and shifting his upper body to face Roy. He rested his elbows on his knees and propped his head up on his hands.

“Just twisted it, doesn’t feel too bad…Brackett cleared me to finish the shift.”

Gage couldn’t keep the brief flash of dislike from his expression, and the tone of his voice when he replied was sharp and biting. “Bracket, huh? He must live at the hospital. Did he improve on his bedside manner at all?”

“John…..” Roy sighed softly, wondering just how much to disclose of his awkward conversation with the equally stubborn doctor. Probably better to say nothing at all, especially considering the strange look his partner was leveling on him. Roy looked a little closer at the other man, finally registering in his own exhausted state, even in the low illumination of the room, Johnny’s flushed cheeks and sunken eyes.

“John, what’s going on with you?” He asked gently, slightly startled at the unexpected flood of concern that was flowing through him as he stared at Gage. He leaned forward and laid the back of his hand against the warm forehead. Fever for sure…gulping guilty, he ran his hands down his partner’s strangely still and non-resisting forearms, trying and failing to find any of the normally protruding veins that lined his arms. Funny how only now he remembered the tightly zippered jacket, the covers pulled up to Gage’s chin, the sweat running down his face, all obvious signs of…….

“Fever…dehydration, nausea?” He offered up lamely, fingers automatically sliding back up the braced arm to the pulse point on his wrist.

“Uhmm…yeah,” Johnny finally admitted quietly and glanced down at the sleeve of crackers lying by his socked foot; the three or four crackers he’d scarfed down during his short attack of munchies were lying like chunks of lead in his churning stomach. Probably shouldn’t have drank that water, but he knew he had to rehydrate. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, he reflected sardonically. And what was going on with Roy? Lots of unforeseen worry in his partner’s voice, he wasn’t clear if he should be irritated by the obvious concern or file it away for future consideration when his reasoning and emotions weren’t so muddled. It seemed that there was going to be a lot of pros and cons piling up, working at this Mayberry like station. For sure, though, he needed to derail this personal pity train he was riding on before DeSoto joined him.

Clearing his throat, John dropped his arms and straightened up, then leaned back and closed his eyes. “Just the flu, ok? Try to do a favor, ya know, and end up with…”

He trailed off as he realized Roy was already gone, in the kitchen and running water into a pot and placing it on the stove. He registered briefly the feel of a cool cloth on his forehead and another on the back of his neck, his partner’s hands pressing them against his fevered skin and then replacing his hands with his own. He heard the sound of footsteps retreating into the apparatus bay, muffled sound of a squad door opening and closing, then the return of the feet to his side.

“Open,” his partner’s voice commanded softly, and Gage reluctantly opened his eyes to see exactly what it was Roy wanted to open.

“Oh,” his muttered acknowledgement had the desired response as a thermometer was pushed into his mouth and he was told, no, ordered, to leave it there. As his eyes fluttered close again, DeSoto levered to his feet and bustled back to the stove, doing something with the hot water and a mug.

He felt a hand on his chest and he reluctantly peeled his eyes open again as his efficient and somewhat fussing partner pushed him fully back against the couch and settled a mug into his right hand, relieving him of the now not so cool cloth against his forehead. The thermometer disappeared and he gratefully lifted up the mug and held the steaming vessel up to his face, breathing in the hot steam. He took his other hand down from the back of his neck, dropping the rag next to the neglected saltines, and steadied the mug with both hands.

“102, pretty high. When did you take aspirin last?” Johnny snorted softly, wondering what Roy would say if he knew that his temperature had been at least a degree higher, or more, before he had sucked down that powdery fever reducer earlier.

Roy moved his gaze from the mercury rod in his hand and focused in on his silent partner. His mouth opened slightly as he took in the sight of John, long legs now drawn up under him in, what did his son Chris call it, crisscross applesauce? The blanket from his bed was now up over his head and fell over his shoulders; Johnny’s dark eyes gazed at him in puzzlement, mug gripped tightly in both hands just under his chin as he studiously ignored the thin wisps of steam that drifted upwards over his face. Just like smoke from a campfire, Roy thought, and put a headband around that black head of hair……the high cheekbones, the skin that tanned so easily…..now a couple of those offhand comments the younger man had offered up, albeit grudgingly, made sense now when the men had been discussing kids and their home environments……”I think how I grew up, Roy, was a lot different than your childhood” and “sometimes the poverty, the absolute lack of hope for the future, can really bring a kid down, you know?”

Roy dropped carefully into the chair behind him as he finally put the pieces together and realized that his new partner, his Indian partner, had most likely grown up on a reservation. Had there been a “race” box on the application that Gage had filled out? If so, Roy had never noticed what box had been checked; the only thing he had been interested in on those forms was the experience, length of service, and the reason why these the men wanted to join the fledgling program. Maybe that explained John’s “reluctance”, to quote Brackett, about being on the receiving end of treatment, and some of the other quirky things that he had observed Johnny doing? Roy had heard about life on the reservations, the lack of medical care, the poor conditions, but he had never witnessed any of it firsthand.

“A couple of hours ago,” Johnny replied finally to the question, carefully taking a sip of the sugar laced tea. Shivering in reaction to the warmth, he took a bigger gulp, relishing the heat and the taste. He frowned at Roy, who was staring at him with an odd look on his face. “What, did I grow horns or something?”

Roy shook himself, both mentally and physically, like a thoroughly wet dog and blew out his breath in an explosive sigh. “No, sorry, just a mental breakdown, or maybe just sheer exhaustion, not really sure.” He paused, but couldn’t help himself. “Did you….ahhhhh….where did you grow up, Johnny?”

It was John’s turn to stare at his partner. His eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned, in disappointment maybe? He shifted back imperceptibly away from Roy, the movement so finely orchestrated that Roy wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t moved his gaze to the edges of the blanket and caught the fluttering backwards shift of the material; he was no longer able to look Johnny in the eyes.

“Why?” John asked his tone so quiet that DeSoto reluctantly forced his eyes away from the material and met the other man’s piercing gaze. “What kind of question is that at three in the morning?”

“I don’t know, really. It’s just that, well, you look….I thought….” Roy cleared his throat, feeling like the worst kind of fool. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this flustered, or so inarticulate, especially within the work environment. Johnny obviously thought so too; Roy was relieved to see a smile beginning a slow climb up the corners of his mouth.

Leaning down, Johnny picked up the crackers and twisted a couple out of the plastic sleeve. He set the mug down in the space between his still crossed legs and thoughtfully turned one of the salty, white squares between his fingers. “I lived on an Indian reservation, Roy, until I was fourteen or fifteen, or around there. And before you let your imagination run away with you – I DID NOT live in a tepee or wear a loincloth!”

Gage paused, softening his comment with a further upward tilt of his lips when he saw the flustered look on his partner’s face, correctly interpreting the expression as regret for starting the conversation. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. I usually reserve that comeback for buttinskis that have no reason to ask personal questions. But since we’re partners and all….” He stopped again, staring at the cracker he was still rotating back and forth, the smile sliding away and a pensive look flitting across his face.

Roy remained silent, speculating just how much more information John was going to volunteer. He seemed to be considering something, what to say or how to say it, maybe? Or was he fabricating a whopper of a story just to play into the stereotype that he apparently was so used to hearing? Cowboys and Indians, that sort of thing…. Would Johnny even believe Roy if he told him he hadn’t even realized until this very moment that he was Indian, or part Indian? He wondered if he was proud of his heritage, or embarrassed by it. It seemed more than likely that it was just something that was never referred to unless brought up by someone else.

Roy winced as he realized he, of course, was the one that had brought the topic up. Here was his unsuspecting partner, sick, sore as hell from that last OT shift, and probably still a little buzzed, trying to relax and unwind. And here comes big, bad Roy, shooting his mouth off and asking personal questions in the middle of the night without any warning. No wonder that tepee comment had shot out of Gage’s mouth. Roy surmised that little blurb had surprised Johnny just as much as himself; he was pretty sure John hadn’t meant to blurt that out. It revealed too much of his past and even where his current thoughts were now dwelling…… both things, from Roy’s observations so far, that his partner seemed to clutch protectively within the seemingly impregnable wall around him.

The halted, awkward conversation began to move again, maybe carefully worded, but still revealing, at least to Roy’s way of thinking. Hesitant and shy, at first, the trickled words that came from Johnny began to gain momentum and flow steadily once he realized Roy was listening.

“It was okay, living on the rez, probably not exactly the same as how you grew up.” He paused, and then continued with a soft sigh. “There weren’t a lot of opportunities or choices, but hey, what did I know? I was a kid; the only thing I cared about was making sure I fed my face and had something to sleep under when it rained. Man that was something, ya know? No baths, no shoes, and adults that stayed out of sight, most of the time anyway…..When we were younger, we ran wild all summer long…of course, as teenagers, we pretty much did the same thing, only you added the girls, the cigarettes, and whatever else that we could get our hands on, to the mix......that was pretty, well, incredible.”

The troubled expression that had drifted over the dark haired man’s features was now replaced with a thoughtful, wistful appearance. He relaxed slightly and deftly rolled the conversation ball back into Roy’s lane. “Where did YOU grow up, since we seem to be playing some kind of twenty question game?”

“Close to here, Norwalk. Joanne and I pretty much grew up together; we’ve known each other since grade school.” Roy paused, distracted by the crunching sound of saltines finally being chewed. “Do you still have family, uh, living on the reservation?”

Johnny swallowed the cracker with obvious effort and washed it down with a sip of tea. He pulled the blanket from his shoulders and let it settle down behind him before answering, bowing his head and staring back down at the mug, seemingly mesmerized by the contents. “Some cousins, uncles, aunts, that kind of thing. You?”

“Yeah, parents, and two sisters still live in the hometown.” Roy noticed that Johnny made no mention of his immediate family, but judging by the younger man’s body language the conversation that had begun to smoothly roll along was ended. He watched him slowly nibble at the second cracker and wondered if he would be able to keep it down. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen him eat anything all day. Great observation skills, Roy thought wryly, cursing himself. Supposed to be a hot shot paramedic and didn’t even notice any of Gage’s flu like symptoms. Bracket was right, though, Johnny seemed to be pretty tight lipped about his physical state. Although, he had been about to tell him something earlier, maybe…….

“What were you going to tell me back at the squad, before Cap interrupted us?” He queried, forcibly squashing his guilt back into the hole it had wormed out of.

“Dunno,” his partner softly replied, lifting his head back up, that same tiny smile reappearing and playing at the corners of his mouth before being drowned in another large swallow of tea. “Lots of things going through my mind at the time……I’m sure not all of them were logical or even relevant to what was going on.”

“Might have had something to do with that hallucinogenic drug swirling around your head…or that crack on your head that I clearly heard when you did your backward dance against the door of that van. “ Roy teased, a relieved smile shadowing his own face.

“Yeah, well, ok…..” Johnny conceded, an array of emotions flitting across his face so fast that Roy wasn’t sure if he had seen the doubt that had appeared briefly.

“Johnny…” Roy spoke hesitantly, trying to choose words to fit his jumbled thoughts, words that wouldn’t anger or alienate his obviously sensitive partner. “You, ah, ok to finish the shift? I mean…”

“Flu, Roy, just the flu, ok? I’d be the first one to let you know if I can’t do my job, all right? And...” With obvious effort, John bit back whatever else he was going to say and lapsed into silence, dropping his head and staring down at the now empty mug still cradled in his hands.

“I know that, John, I absolutely trust your judgment.” He replied carefully, trying to keep his tone easy, with no hesitancy. Definitely no more personal questions to stir the turmoil that seemed to be again darkly brewing in the other man’s head. “You’ve had two back to back hard shifts…I’m just concerned.” It was time to let the volley of words end. He did trust this man’s decisions, and if he said that he was good to go, then he was.

Roy stood up and held out his hand to his brooding partner. “Going to catch a nap, are you coming?”

“Yeah, sure,” John replied after a long moment; it looked like he was waging an internal battle. He apparently came to a positive decision as he took the proffered help and unfolded to his feet. “Any of that hot water left?”

“Enough for another cup, easily,” Roy replied, sweeping his chair back to where it belonged. He grabbed the mug from John’s hand and returned to the kitchen. While he made another cup of tea, Johnny swept up the items on the floor with one hand and joined Roy in the kitchen area, dragging his blanket carelessly behind him with his other hand.

Turning around from the stove, the images of tepees and campfires slid soundlessly out of Roy’s thoughts as his eyes tracked the progress of the blanket sliding across the reasonably clean floor. It was replaced with vivid pictures of that little kid forever drawing his blanket behind him in that comic strip….. Good God, either he was incredibly exhausted, or he was having some kind of way delayed reaction to that pot smoke.

He was shaken out of his musings by his partner bumping him gently and removing the mug from his hand. Johnny looked at him, his dark eyes glittering slightly, but the pupils now thankfully normal. Roy could feel the heat radiating off him, however, and had to make a conscious effort to keep his fist clenched at his side and not raise his hand to feel John’s forehead again.

“Thanks, Roy,” John said softly, raising up the mug in an acknowledgement of his words. “I feel better……I really appreciate this, ya know?”

Roy gave his partner a careful nudge towards the door. “Not a problem, gave me a chance to practice my paramedic skills.” On you, again, he added to himself, biting his lip as he recalled trying to check his partner earlier and being brushed aside.

Gage snorted but obligingly headed for the bay. “More like your father skills…or maybe an old dog can learn new skills? I bet you’ve watched your wife taking care of your kids, or maybe fussing over you, and you retained some of that?”

“You calling me old, Gage?” Roy bantered back, enjoying the unexpected word play. The dark haired man shot Roy a crooked grin; DeSoto watched as he pulled up the slightly mangled blanket and wadded it under his arm before picking up his shoes. He skirted around the grill of the still dripping squad and headed across the front of the bay towards the dorm.

Roy followed, the swishing sound of his wet bunker pants sounding loud in the cavernous area. He detoured to the locker room, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and taking care of personal business. He grabbed a clean pair of socks from his locker before stumbling wearily to his bunk, the events of the shift settling into his bones. He was pleasantly startled to see two pillows lying at the foot of his bed; his partner must have dropped them there for him to prop up his ankle.

He peered into the mug that Johnny had placed on the brick window ledge between their beds; he was pleased that Gage had managed to drain most of the mug dry. Yeah, he was definitely in father mode thinking along those lines, just like John had said. He wondered why he felt slightly protective, and so damn guilty, about this guy; there probably were only a couple of years separating them in age. Maybe it was because Gage looked like he belonged in school instead of pulling hoses and rappelling off cliffs; or maybe it was that he sometimes exuded an air of innocence and charming naivety that the women sure seemed to notice. Then again, it sometimes seemed that the kid carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and the dark eyes reflected an old soul dwelling deep within. Roy had seen that look in Vietnam, and was sure that if he looked in the mirror after a nightmare he would see the same torment in his own blue eyes. Every man carried secrets that might never see the light of day, or had witnessed or carried out actions best left undisclosed…..

Either way, it was an odd sensation to feel almost parental concern for someone he worked with, and not one that Roy had ever experienced before, especially not with the several partners he had had before Gage came along. Of course they had been older, and he had always been the junior rescue partner. Even on the truck, he had been the youngest lineman. So now it was his turn to be the senior partner and assume the responsibility. Maybe this was how it felt to have a younger brother? His sisters were both older and had never needed his protection, more like the other way around. And the guilt thing, that was probably going to go hand in hand with his new job title of paramedic. There were bound to be moments of second guessing; it just happened that Johnny Gage was his first “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that” occasion.

Feeling better that he was now able to identify, conveniently catalogue, and tidily shelve his self-reproach and worry , Roy rose up on his toes to get a better look at his partner, wary about stepping closer; he didn’t want to take the chance of interrupting his needed slumber. Gage SEEMED to be asleep, his breathing deep and steady, his features relaxed. He was laying on his right side again, but this time the covers were only drawn partway up his body; his left arm was out of the blanket and loosely draped over his eyes. Roy winced at the bruising that was already beginning to change color, clearly evident, even in the lowlight, on his arm and the side of his face that was visible. Even as he watched, Johnny rolled over onto his back and slung his left arm up over his face, a curious habit that Roy had noticed before. Maybe something to do with blocking out the light from the stupidly placed windows in their dorm, or maybe a thing from his childhood that had followed him right into adulthood.

Roy slowly shrugged out of his suspenders and slid his bunkers down and stepped out of them, lining them up by the bunk. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he switched out his socks. He grabbed the pillows and worked them under the sheet and blanket to the bottom of the bunk. He then dropped onto his back, drawing his legs up and under the covers, dropping the ankle down onto the elevated foam. Carefully he twisted over onto his stomach, settling his face into the pillow with a relieved sigh. Finally…..maybe some sleep, or more like a nap, to start off the new day. He considered the previous hours, glad that the unusually hot day had turned into a welcoming, wet, and considerably cooler evening. Could have done without the mud, however; he was pretty sure that there was some of it dried in places on his body that he didn’t want to even think about.

It had definitely been a busy shift for the squad. He was thankful that they had managed to squeeze in a couple of meals, even though his partner hadn’t seemed to have taken advantage of it. Roy wondered how John could perform his job so seemingly effortlessly, when he apparently had been fighting off the flu for most of the day. If he had been hanging upside down in that tree, Roy was pretty sure he would have been spewing his guts up. Definitely would have lost it being in that confined, smoky space with those two hippies……that had just seemed to put Gage in a silly, albeit slightly high, mood. Except for that very strange shift several weeks ago that had involved multiple animal calls, Roy hadn’t seen his new partner act quite so, well, young. He was usually extremely focused and very intense in his actions and his conversations; Roy had to admit that was one of the reasons he had considered and then had ultimately asked him to join him at this new station. He admired that dedication in Johnny, and after several enlightening conversations with the crew over at 10’s, knew that the other man could be fiercely loyal with his shift mates and friends.

Letting his mind drift to where it wanted to float, the medic mused about the other men of the station, unaware that his thoughts were following the path that Johnny had tread earlier. Really need to get to know these guys better, have a barbecue or something….invite their families, let the single men bring a date……wonder if the cap would show up….Wait though, would JoAnne go for it? He tried to remember if she had met all the guys yet.

Yes, no, okay, maybe not the captain yet. Definitely had met the rest of the crew, Johnny of course being the first at that birthday party Dix had hosted for him. Oh boy, that was right. His spitfire of a wife had told Brackett exactly what she was thinking, and then his suddenly talkative partner had made that wise crack comment of his own. For some reason, though, John’s caustic words had rubbed Jo the wrong way, even though her own remarks had been almost equally rude; maybe because she had been more diplomatic in the way she phrased them, in her mind anyway. Whatever the argument, Roy knew that his wife wasn’t exactly wild about his new partner. He needed to work on that problem, had planned on it fact but just hadn’t had the time to work out the details. Maybe a barbecue would be a great way to start….. His thoughts began to blur together as all of his anxieties resolved themselves and ebbed slowly away……He closed his eyes, finally heading towards, hopefully, several hours of dreamless, uninterrupted slumber before the wake up tones sounded.

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Mike Stoker strolled into the day room, following the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He peered into the full pot on the top of the range and grabbed for a clean mug sitting in the drainer. Once the ceramic cup hit his lips, he turned and searched for the creator of the fragrant brew.

He didn’t have far to look, as Gage was standing in the doorway of the opened, aqua colored door that led out into the side driveway. He was slumped lazily against the windowed portal, one leg bent at the knee and foot flat against the door. He was staring fixedly outside, his eyes focused on something that Stoker couldn’t see. Not that there was much to look at, Mike thought as he moved over to Johnny’s side, unless he was looking at the traffic streaming down the road or the beautiful sight of the refinery sprawled across the street.

Or maybe it was the rain, which was pouring down just as hard, or probably harder, then it had last night. Mike leaned over Gage to look in the same direction, causing the other man to jump slightly. The engineer raised a hand in apology as whatever liquid that was in the cup Johnny was holding tight against his chest slopped over and trickled down his blue jacket.

“Sorry,” Stoker muttered, swiping a hand instinctively at the spreading stain. He jerked back his hand, surprised at the heat emanating from the jacket. “Just out of the dryer?”

John finally looked at the apologetic engineer, his lips twitching in a small smile. “Yeah.”

“What were you looking at?”

Johnny shrugged, raising his other hand to join the other one cradling the cup. His voice was raspy when he replied. “Birds, I guess. Goofing around on the top of the wall; they don’t seem to care about the rain.”

Mike turned back around to look towards the wall again, but the birds had apparently had enough and had beaten a hasty retreat towards shelter. He ducked back into the room and watched Gage a moment, marveling at how colorful his bruises had become. He touched the side of his own face and then pointed at the younger man.

“Got a rainbow going on there?”

Gage raised a hand towards the purple and blue hued collage of colors decorating his skin, then dropped the questing hand and straightened up. He winced, moved the hand around to his side, and rubbed it. “Yeah, but it’s the sore muscles that are bugging me.”

He pulled away from the door and closed it behind him, effectively silencing most of the noise of the torrential downpour, and followed Mike over to the table. Mike dropped into a chair and watched as John set his mug down on the table and poked a finger into the toast crusts that were sitting on a plate. His eyes tracked Johnny’s stiff gaited walk to the trash can to dump his breakfast remains and then followed his progress to the sink to drop the plate off; Gage seemed unaware of Mike’s continued scrutiny as he slowly trekked past the table and over to the doorway leading to the apparatus bay. The dark haired man turned and looked back at him, hand still rubbing at his side.

“If the shower is free, I’m gonna go drown myself in hot water.”

To Mike it seemed that Gage was trying to hold back a racking cough; maybe the shower would loosen up his lungs a bit. He nodded in acknowledgement, sipping at his coffee. He heard voices in the bay and seconds later Roy appeared in the newly vacated doorway, an amused expression on his face. He nodded at Mike and made a beeline to the coffee pot, lured by the smell like a fish to bait. It wasn’t until he had his first sip that he turned back around and faced the engineer. Mike smiled when Roy closed his eyes briefly to savor the first swallow.

“Good coffee, Mike,” Roy praised, pulling out a chair and sliding into it.

Shaking his head, Stoker set his now empty mug down. “Didn’t make it.”

“Johnny?” Roy questioned, glancing quizzically towards the empty doorway.

“Yep,” the engineer answered in his usual, economical way. He started to pick his cup up again, remembered it was empty, and placed it gently back down. He contemplated his next words, not quite sure of the dynamics between the new paramedic team. “Do you think Gage looks a little worse than he did yesterday?”

DeSoto shrugged. “He’s going to get more colorful, and then it will all fade away.” He glanced up at Stoker and realized he was waiting for more. “He’s tired, sore, and probably a little sick…”

Roy wasn’t about to elaborate any farther on just exactly how sick Gage had been earlier that morning when he had discovered him in the rec room. He was more concerned about how he was doing now; except for the hoarse voice, he was sure that Johnny had seemed better when he had passed him in the bay. Although he supposed that the several words that they had exchanged weren’t really an indicator of anyone’s health, good or bad, he felt that Johnny’s demeanor was indicative of the flu taking its leave. Yeah, his partner was going to be sore for quite a while from his tangle with the pressurized hose, but the twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep that was in sight would hopefully eradicate his partner’s exhaustion, aches, AND the last remnants of the 24 hour bug. He was just thankful that their early morning nap had passed in silence, with no interruptions pulling them from their much needed rest.

His own sleep had been short and dreamless and the wake up tones had jolted him rudely awake. Come to think of it, though, Johnny had been nowhere in sight when he had dragged himself up out of the tangled bedding, almost falling out of the bunk in his attempt to disentangle himself from the cocoon. In fact, his partner’s bed was already stripped to the mattress and indicated that he had been up before the wakeup call.

“He just seems a little, I don’t know, not his usual self?” Mike plowed on uncertainly, not sure himself what seemed to be wrong with Gage, and definitely not able to put it into words. Maybe it was just the memory of that glimpse of John throwing up on the freeway yesterday that was playing with his mind; sitting high up in his perch in the Crown he had had a bird’s eye view of the whole accident scene and was pretty sure he was the only one of the engine crew that had witnessed Gage’s reflexive response - or maybe to the other man it had been a second of weakness or a moment of embarrassment? He wasn’t sure whether it was Johnny reacting from what he had witnessed through the windshield or possibly he was just simply coming down with the flu that was spreading around. He knew John was an experienced rescue man and firefighter, but there were always going to be scenarios that pushed even the most seasoned fireman to his limit; Mike knew that from personal experience. But then again, the illness scenario would make sense, especially considering the comment from Roy about his partner being “a little sick” and Mike’s own take on John’s slightly off manner. It wasn’t as if he really knew the dark haired paramedic that well, either professionally or personally, to form a judgement on the questions swirling through his brain, but …. Sometimes, he just went on instinct, and this was one of those times. He liked to think that he was an intuitive man; his wife told him that he often made judgements or acted quickly because he spent a lot of time observing others. Maybe so, but either way he had an odd feeling that something was bothering the young man, and while DeSoto’s comment about Gage’s physical well-being was dead on, Mike had a hunch that there was more to it.

He watched Roy casually lean back in his chair, his watchful eyes not missing the brief flash of worry that flickered across DeSoto’s usually stoic countenance. So good, he wasn’t the only one noticing the uneasiness wrapped around John like a smothering fog. There must be something going on, at least something enough for DeSoto to be concerned about. So possibly the new partners were clicking together pretty good if the senior paramedic had noticed and was mulling it over; they might just prove to be a well matched team. Mike smiled as an image of a steam fire engine being pulled along in perfect sync by a pair of matching draft horses flashed through his mind. Not quite the comparison that he had envisioned, but hey, he was an engineer after all, and it wasn’t like the new medic team would ever realize that he was mentally comparing them to a team of horses. Even if they knew what he was thinking, they should be flattered that he was equating them to those loyal, steadfast, hardworking animals. In Mike’s opinion, those four-hooved steeds were heroes in the employ of the fire service and ranked on the same level as their two footed counterparts.

Mike pulled his attention back to the man in front of him, who seemed to be regarding quite seriously the question that he had thrown at him. From what he had noticed with Roy, he kept his emotions firmly in check and seemed to hold himself slightly away from everyone else. He was friendly, yes, but it seemed that sometimes he held himself back and dangled uncertainly on the perimeter of their little group. At times he was hard to read, which was why it had taken Mike so long to realize that DeSoto had a sarcastic wit; he had noticed it on several occasions.

Now whether any of the other guys had caught onto that sly humor yet remained to be seen. Marco definitely had not, but only because he seemed to think the best of everyone and put a positive spin on everything and everybody. He would take Roy’s words at face value and just move on. Of all the men on their shift, Lopez appeared to be the most laid back. And shaping up to be a terrific cook, as well. Chet, well, if he could close his mouth long enough to really listen to someone else - he would most assuredly recognize the subtle barbs that Roy cast out. Or, maybe that was it, DeSoto was too understated for Kelly to catch on to. Mike had a feeling that, for now, Chester B. was keeping himself tightly coiled before he started on a reign of his own devious word assaults and physical pranks. To the engineer, it seemed like Kelly was studying each man on the shift, excluding their captain of course, and contemplating their weaknesses and reactions. When he believed the time was right, he was going to strike his unsuspecting victim.

As for John, that was another story altogether. Stoker couldn’t seem to categorize him anywhere. He appeared at times to be both gullible AND street savvy, could someone possibly be both? Gage had been the target of his new partner’s biting wordplay at least once that Mike had been privy too; the youngest member of their crew had simply let the words slide over him and continued on without pause, almost as if he was well aware of the crafty undertones of Roy’s comment but chose to ignore it. Whereas the one time Chet had tentatively coiled out his own sharp tongued barb at something John had said or done, Gage had reacted instantly with an angry retort of his own and turned a cold shoulder on the Irish lineman for the rest of the shift. So possibly Gage was choosing his battles, and was aligning himself with DeSoto. Since the two had to spend so much of their working time paired up, it was a wise decision on Johnny’s part.

So maybe Roy was sometimes stingy with his words and also a little backhanded with them on occasion; he was a darn good fireman, though, and looked to be even a better paramedic. Must be comfortable working with “A” shift already, because Mike was sure that the jesting did not make an appearance when Roy was advocating for the paramedic program. Obviously Roy could also be loquacious and persuasive; one of the results of that had just exited the room. DeSoto was good with the victims too, something Mike was glad he didn’t have to deal with, at least not yet. In the future, for sure, but for the moment he was enjoying the mechanics of the gauges, the feel of the power beneath his hands on the oversized wheel. He was doing exactly what he had worked for and dreamed of; having this exceptional group of men, also doing a job that they enjoyed, alongside of him was an unexpected but very welcome bonus.

Definitely going to be an interesting mix of personalities and interests on this shift; Mike just hoped that if any conflicts or problems arose that they wouldn’t leech into their responses. He doubted it though, because when those tones went off every man there responded with professionalism and were proving that they could work together well. He really did have a good feeling about these guys…..

“What exactly is Johnny’s normal self?” Roy finally quipped back, shaking Mike out of his speculations and astonishing him with the unexpected and mostly unanswerable question, at least for now. Now it was Mike’s turn to squirm uncomfortably under Roy’s scrutiny; even though he knew DeSoto was only messing with him, he felt that there was an undercurrent of seriousness lurking under the other man’s jesting words. It seemed that Roy’s hackles were rising, whether in defense of his partner or some other reason, he wasn’t sure.

Seeing Mike’s steady gaze on him, Roy gave another halfhearted shrug and stood up. He motioned towards Stoker’s empty mug and picked it up when Mike nodded. He looked into the third cup that remained in solitude and picked it up as well, recognizing the liquid that remained as tea. Must have been Gage’s drink of choice; he wondered what Mike had noticed about Gage that had him asking questions. He really couldn’t believe that Stoker already had a handle on John this early in their working relationship. How was that possible, when he himself had just barely scratched the surface of his apparently many layered partner? That brief exchange of words when he had returned from Rampart this morning had left Roy baffled, when he got to thinking about it, after taking his delayed shower just minutes earlier. While speeding through his two minute shower, he had been contemplating the logistics of the barbecue and whether or not he and Jo could pull it together for the upcoming weekend. Well, mostly whether Jo could and would, if he was being honest. After the shower he had been sitting on the bench pulling on socks and shoes, and the barbecue musings had shifted to the early morning talk with his new partner.

So the little, spontaneous conversation hadn’t revealed too much about his new colleague, what was the big deal? He knew John Gage was single, had been with the county for almost four years, and had a reputation for being dependable, loyal, and a good firefighter. He seemed to have a lot of friends within the fire service and surprisingly, quite a few within the sheriffs’ department also. Roy was pretty sure all that information was common knowledge; it was Gage’s heritage and where he had grown up that had been surprising, at least to Roy. Yet, while those grudgingly held out bits of information had been welcomed and absorbed, Roy realized it had been Johnny’s expressions and tone of voice that had him puzzled. He had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Stoker was right, something was gnawing at Johnny.

So perhaps in the little time remaining within the shift, he could attempt to draw it out of his fellow medic. See if they had reached the point yet where their often aimless chatter might progress into something a little more meaningful or personal. Roy found that thought oddly comforting, that he might actually hold an adult conversation with someone close to his own age. Excluding his wife, of course, it seemed that the last five or so years had solely consisted of exchanged pleasantries with his fellow workers, as well as one sided communication with two very small children that didn’t exactly contain any two plus syllable words.

Back still to the engineer, Roy smirked and decided that he was thinking like an adolescent. Hoping to forge a friendship with someone, anyone, as long as he had another human being to talk to and confide in. “But what if they don’t like me, Mom?” He mouthed silently, gently setting the tea mug in the sink.

Ok, so it had been awhile since he’d touched base with any of his friends from school or his Uncle Sam mandated time in the service. His face settled in a mask of pensive thought as he realized this and also came to the sad conclusion that he really hadn’t even attempted forge any new friendships since he had joined the department and gotten married. Focusing on his new wife and hopefully life time career had taken up most of his time; once the kids had started arriving the thought had definitely never ended his mind. He shook his head, this time letting a genuine smile replace the smirk. Well, if things worked out okay, hopefully he would be at this station for a while and could work on his people connections.

He refilled the other two cups with coffee, leaving just enough in the pot for another cup. Maybe Cap would get that before the two linemen made their appearance in the kitchen. He returned to the table and set the mugs down. He flushed slightly, feeling the engineer’s eyes still on him. A flash of irritation surged through him at the scrutiny that Mike seemed to be bestowing on him; just as quickly it dissolved as Roy realized that was how Mike looked at everybody. He always seemed to contemplating the person he was looking at, or maybe it was simply that he was miles away, thinking of other places and people. Roy eased himself down onto a chair and pushed Stoker’s mug towards him, hoping it would distract the other man away from his preoccupation with Johnny.

“Couldn’t tell you…..” Mike finally answered hesitantly, about DeSoto’s half in jest question; he ran a finger along the rim of the coffee cup. “My wife says I’m kinda observant about people, and ah, things, you know. Maybe, maybe not…..”

Roy smiled, feeling an almost instant solidarity with the other man, along with the chance to sway the conversation into another, much needed direction. Here he was on solid ground, or at least standing on a surface that wasn’t swaying wildly under his feet. Then again, maybe that wasn’t quite true. Being married, he could truthfully admit to himself, was sometimes equivalent to being on one of those twirling, swirling rides at a carnival. Up, down, and all around in dizzying directions seemed to be an accurate summary, with long periods of gentle, smooth, kiddie boat ride woven loosely through it. “Wives are kinda like that, Stoker. And I’ve learned, mostly the hard way that they are usua.., uh, ALWAYS right, if you know what I mean. How long have you been married?”

“As long as I’ve been an engineer, about six months now.” Mike gazed at him over the rim of his cup, giving Roy the feeling that he was indeed very observant, eerily so as Roy felt a shiver trickle down his spine. Must have watched too many of those Star Trek episodes where Spock did the mind meld thing, Roy concluded, shaking his head slightly. Now if Stoker raised his hand up and spread those fingers apart, and uttered “live long and prosper”, he knew the speed of light would be obtained in this firehouse by his own blazing feet.

“Not enough sleep,” DeSoto muttered under his breath, remembering only too vividly his earlier thoughts concerning his partner and that blasted blanket. He looked over towards the stacked ovens, realizing that fragrant aroma of coffee wasn’t the only thing that he smelled. “Someone cooking breakfast in the oven?”

“Must be Marco, I think he threw together some sort of breakfast casserole last night.”

Roy rose to his feet and moved to the oven, peering through the window of the top left oven. There was definitely something baking in there, with a lot of cheese bubbling on the top. He had his hand on the handle, ready to check further, when the cook breezed into the kitchen.

“Hands off, Roy!” Marco instructed, grabbing a dish towel off the linoleum counter and flapping it at the startled medic. “You can’t open the door until it is ready!”

Roy stepped back obediently and circled around the table, grinning at Marco’s authoritative tone. He made a grab for his mug, glad to see that Stoker had apparently filled his conversation quota for the shift; he had picked up the newspaper from the table and was trying to peel the damp pages apart. Roy’s smile grew even wider as he paused to watch the frustrated attempts of the engineer but he wisely exited the room when Mike’s narrow eyed glare rose from the periodical and focused on him.

Skirting around the front of the now dry but very dirty vehicles, Roy meandered towards the locker room, wondering if he should have asked Lopez when the food would be ready. While the coffee was filling a much needed void, his stomach was now clamoring for more sustenance. He strolled into the damp, somewhat steamy room, reminding Roy of his gym period in high school.

Spying Johnny standing at the sinks, shaving, DeSoto dropped onto the bench in front of the first row of lockers. He set his cup down and yawned, running a hand absentmindedly over his own bristly skin.

“I think, well maybe I’m guessing, that Marco’s breakfast is almost ready,” he finally ventured out with, when the only sound in the room was the continued scraping of razor against stubbly skin.

Gage paused in his single-minded task, not bothering to turn around but looking in the mirror and locking glances for a brief moment with the older man. “Okay.”

He dropped his eyes and resumed the torture of his skin; Roy winced at the sound. As If reading his partner’s thoughts, Johnny jabbed his brush into his shaving cup and slapped some more soap onto his jaw. A few swift strokes and he was finished. He turned on the water and rinsed the razor before bending over and splashing the residues of white lather from his face.

Roy yawned again and abandoning his coffee, trudged to his locker and pulled his own shaving kit out. He joined Gage at the sinks and lined up his razor, mug, and brush at the top of the far left sink in a precise row. Hand on the faucet, he stopped and looked over.

“So I’m thinking about having a barbecue on our next weekend off…just the guys from our shift this time, along with their families or a date. What do you think?”

“Sure, why not?” Johnny replied, wiping down the faucet and sink top in front of him with a paper towel. He moved over to his locker and threw his bag in the bottom before grabbing his blue shirt off the bench.

“Be a nice way for everybody to kinda get to know each other, the Cap has never met JoAnne and I’ve never met his wife or Stoker’s either.”

“Sure hope your wife likes the captain more than she likes me,” Gage muttered, head down as he buttoned up his shirt. At the silence that followed his comment, he looked up and met DeSoto’s gaze. “What? Roy, she positively spat at me after Dix’s party.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have asked her that question.” At Johnny’s puzzled look, Roy sighed and turned around, shaving brush in his left hand and straight edged razor in his right. “Gage, you never ask a woman, especially my woman after she’s had a few drinks and a confrontation with your friend Kelly Brackett, if she’s overly protective of her mate.”

“Oh. Yeah, guess you’re right.” He conceded reluctantly after a moment’s thought, shoving in his shirttails and grabbing his jacket. He pulled it on and started to zip up, then stopped mid zip to frown at the visible wet mark on it. He fumbled in his locker and pulled out a crumpled white towel and blotted at the stain.

Roy resumed his shaving, now anxious to finish so that he could eat. Minutes later he completed his daily task and stowed his shaving supplies. He turned from the sink, bag in hand, and flicked a questioning glance at his partner. Johnny had dropped onto the bench, elbows resting on his knees and towel dangling from his still hands. The bent head and slumped posture reminded Roy of the beginning of their shift, when John had been in almost the same exact position with a towel in his hands.

“You ok?” He questioned warily, waiting to have his head chewed off for asking the question.

The still damp head lifted and he allowed a half smile to flit across his face before he sighed and nodded his head. “Just tired, and feeling like I’m a hundred years old.”

“Yeah, sometimes I feel that way too. Stoker was asking about you, thought you didn’t look too good.”

“Mike?” John asked in amazement, arching an eyebrow. “You got more than three words out of him?”

DeSoto had to laugh at the disbelief emanating from his partner. “Yeah, I lost count after twenty.”

Johnny’s expression sobered and he bowed his head again, his hands now twisting the towel. He coughed, and tore loose one his hands to rub it against his face. “Say Roy….”

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Roy dropped down onto the bench, straddling it and facing his colleague. He tossed his shaving kit next to the now tepid cup of coffee and leaned back against the brick wall that separated the room from the apparatus bay. He waited patiently as the towel was distorted and stretched between Johnny’s hands; Gage was obviously having a hard time of putting whatever was bothering him into words.

“You’ve been a paramedic, well, I guess the same amount of time I have, but….I mean, you’ve had more training…” John stopped, turning his head to look at Roy, who nodded in affirmation and encouragement. “Do you ever have dou.…?”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the tones, calling the whole station to a motor vehicle accident less than two miles away. Roy bit off the angry word that almost escaped him and followed his visibly relieved partner out into the bay. Johnny paused, looked at him, and then stabbed a finger in the direction of Roy’s ankle.

“You ok with that?”

“I’m fine,” Roy answered, unable to contain the irritation lacing his voice at the dispatcher’s ill-timed interruption.

He winced at the effect his words had on Gage as the concerned look on the other man’s face immediately slid into a blank mask of professionalism. It was the same expression that he used with the victims and their families; an emotionless veneer that he plastered on and with which he seemed to be getting better at each day. Roy was very familiar with that blank look, for he had slyly practiced it himself in front of the bathroom mirror at home. Roy knew it was a necessary defense mechanism, both for Gage and himself, but it pained him to see the other man using it with him, especially when it had seemed that his new partner had been tentatively reaching out. So great, just great, whatever question or confidence the younger man had been about to let loose with had just been drowned with the monotone voice of the county employee, right along with his own misinterpreted tone.

Yanking his turnout from its perch on the mirror, Roy plopped hard into the seat of the squad, grabbing at his helmet and accepting the call slip handed to him by Captain Hammer. He heard the slam of the door on the other side and without looking, held out the slip of paper and turned the key in the ignition. The paper was pulled from his fingers; Roy barely heard John’s terse, coughed out direction to go right over the sudden onset of water pounding on the roof as they left the dry shelter of the garage. Even the wail of the siren, firing up on the Crown easing out behind them, was muted and sounded strangely distorted.

He switched the wipers to high and turned right onto the street after a cautious pause. He felt the seat shift slightly as his partner leaned forward and braced a hand against the dash, tense and alert. As they turned right onto Wilmington Avenue and crossed over the Dominguez Channel, both men shot quick and nervous glances at the dark, churning water contained within its cement walls.

“Sure hope they finished that Alameda flood control tunnel,” Roy muttered, the rapidly moving water immediately bringing back memories of the explosion and subsequent collapse of part of the underground tunnel that had resulted in fatalities and injuries for both workers and rescuers. While the medics had performed the first solo, official medical procedure of the paramedic program, the bill being passed only hours before in Sacramento, that whole disaster gave Roy shivers whenever he thought about it. They had come perilously close to terminating their fledgling partnership while working to dig out the trapped man from under the trencher. Fortunately, they and the two firefighters from 82s had escaped unharmed from the whole ordeal except for several pounds of mud cemented to their turnouts.

But had they really? Glancing over at Johnny, Roy took note of the funny look that flashed over his face. Now, looking back at that calamity several months later, he realized that as they had trailed wearily out of that tunnel they had both been on an adrenaline high, at least mentally anyways. That was, until Brackett had shown up. Gage’s stumbling attempt at an apology and Kel’s rather brusque reply, which at the time DeSoto had interpreted as being jokingly meant, had instantly deflated Johnny’s mood. This meant, in hindsight, that Gage had not seen any humor in Brackett’s words. More than likely he had found them to be insulting and sarcastic, and, probably confusing coming hard on the heels of Brackett’s compliment of “My highest congratulations, doctors” (1); the praise was delivered to them after the successful treatment of the victim in the flickering lights of the tunnel.

John’s barely suppressed excitement about the agonizing slow but eventual successful rescue and the unsupervised use of the defibrillator had disappeared, to be replaced by a brooding silence that Roy had not even noticed. He had been so caught up in his own churning thoughts, and they had been so tired……..Come to think of it, John had left the station immediately, not pausing to shower and dress in his civilian clothes; he had grabbed his bag, stuffed his clothes in, and departed after a terse farewell to his crewmates. The rest of the A shift had lingered in the locker room, their weariness temporarily forgotten as they discussed the tunnel collapse and listened to Roy’s account of the paramedics’ training finally being put to the test.

Roy gripped the steering wheel tightly to keep himself from smacking it as realization set in. They had finally been released from the shackles binding them to the presence of a nurse, or even worse, not being allowed to render anything except basic first aid. Unfortunately, it was also at that moment that Johnny’s already awkward and strained relationship with Kelly Brackett had worsened to the point where the new medic simply accompanied his patients into the exam room, answered any questions put to him by the dark haired doctor, and then immediately departed. If it was Joe Early waiting, however, the abrupt but professional demeanor changed to one of lively curiosity and offered help that was always accepted.

Here was Gage at his best, and definitely displaying some of the qualities that Roy had known he was capable of. It was also one of the reasons he had asked him to be his partner. Whether it was darting about the room hanging an IV, taking a BP reading, or simply watching and learning as the older doctor sutured a wound or performed a procedure that they were not authorized to do in the field, Johnny was attentive, calm, friendly, and decidedly a willing participant in anything that needed to be done. If the situation wasn’t critical, he also asked questions that gave Roy an indication that his partner might have a growing interest in the field of medicine beyond being a paramedic with the fire department.

He glanced again at Johnny, who hadn’t responded with any words to his comment. His odd expression had, however, morphed into a smirk. When he let loose a snort of amusement Roy couldn’t help but smile. His partner was more than likely thinking about that story in the newspaper. They were standing that rainy night at the base station in Rampart chatting with Dixie McCall. John had told them about the article when the tones on their HT first sounded, summoning multiple stations to the tunnel collapse. If they hadn’t finished the flood control tunnel at the scheduled time “before the rainy season” a month ago as mentioned in that newspaper quote, then the odds were pretty high that they were still working on it now.

John had also risen a little in his seat to glance back at the churning water. The flash of amusement that had appeared for a moment had been replaced with a pensive look and Roy wondered if he was recalling that particular rescue, or simply looking ahead to their current call. DeSoto decided that it was going to be an uphill battle to keep up with the lightning quick mood and thought changes of the other man.

Johnny was indeed thinking back on that night that had turned into a long, arduous slide into morning. His musings involved Doctor Brackett all right, but had traveled down a completely different path. He couldn’t help but play with the idea that when Kelly Brackett had vehemently ordered them several times to perform that defibrillation on the heart victim, which he had done successfully on the second try, they had not been legally authorized to do so. Brackett had glibly told them that the bill had passed, but had it been approved at that moment he pushed them to give the man that lifesaving jolt of electricity?

John didn’t think so, which meant that the “by the book” doctor had boldly jumped over the legal and moral line. He had done exactly what he had accused the paramedics of doing, jeopardizing their precious program to save one life, but why? He knew he could do some research and verify the time that the bill had been passed and signed, but it was over and done with and nothing would be gained by it, except maybe gaining a little peace in his own mind. If the bill had indeed slid unimpeded through the hallways of the State Capitol, then Brackett had just been doing a good job in guiding the new paramedics through the procedure. But if it hadn’t been… it didn’t make sense.

It just gnawed at him, that little, well actually that “big” detail. If Brackett had been willing to risk his reputation and his career on a spur of the moment decision to save the life of a man he didn’t even know, then Johnny seriously needed to rethink his opinion of the man. Kelly Brackett must have a heart beating somewhere in his chest to be willing to risk that much. John snorted, and wiped a hand over his damp face. The good doctor had a heart, a caring heart at that, what a concept. Okay, he had been wrong before and would be wrong again, and this was definitely a line of thought that needed to be pursued. He really did need a better working relationship with the man – one, the most obvious reason was that he was his boss, and two – because he really did like people in general and so it was hard to keep dwelling on the negatives when he knew Brackett had good qualities within him. He just had to get over his initial impression of instant dislike and subsequent aversion to the way the often brusque and surly doctor handled some of his patients and the people that worked for him.

He could feel his partner’s eyes on him; he shot a fast smile at him before turning his attention back to the road in front of them. He clearly heard the sharp inhale of breath from Roy and threw him another quick but puzzled look, wondering what that was about. He had a feeling that it was going to take several more months to figure out some of DeSoto’s reactions to things and people around him, or maybe he should just call them idiosyncrasies and let it go. He would probably never figure this guy out completely, but it would be nice to be able to understand his new partner to some degree. That eye rolling thing that Roy liked to do - didn’t really take a genius to figure out what that one was all about. And those couple of snarky little comments that had come firing out of his colleague’s mouth like balls out of a cannon, usually when you least expected them; those were pretty self-explanatory too. His partner had a sarcastic wit that he used sparingly and Johnny liked it. He didn’t even care if some of those double edged words had been directed at him because he knew they weren’t cruelly meant. Roy was a serious, dedicated guy and he just needed a way to vent.

It was the odd things like that sigh directed straight at him, what the heck did that mean? Or his tone of voice when they had got the call they were on right now. The guy sounded like he was ready to blow a gasket when all he had done was ask him if he was ok to drive. And the way he had dropped into the squad seat, Johnny had thought that he was going to split the seam of his pants open. Maybe Roy was just a sensitive guy and responded with over exaggeration to everything. John’s lips quirked at the corners as he pondered his hasty conclusion; he decided that he was right, at least for the moment. Lips still curled in mirth, he stared out the rain blurred window, straining for signs of the accident.

Roy narrowed his eyes and rolled down his window a few inches, his visibility not at its best. He didn’t know what strange thoughts had prompted the little noises and unsolicited facial expressions emitting from the fireman next to him, but he found it hard to believe that his straightforward comment about that Alameda flood channel had brought on all those reactions. Gage looked like he was riding that emotional roller coaster again with all those grimaces and smirks that were bounding across his face in rapid motion. If only he could get him to open up verbally…..

“There.” Minutes later, John’s one word directive and pointing finger brought DeSoto out of his confused thoughts and slid them to an unintentional, fishtailing skid on the saturated, oily pavement; Roy grimly corrected his too sudden braking and brought the vehicle to a controlled stop on the road. He pulled the squad off the thoroughfare and into the gravel on the side, leaving room for the engine but still directly behind the car that was skewed sideways into a pole, driver’s side door wedged tight against it. A yellow slickered sheriff’s deputy was pulling at the door on the opposite side, to no avail.

“I’ll get the pry bar,” John said, a second before his feet hit the dirt and he disappeared from view. Roy cast a doubting look at the torrential downpour, tugged up the collar of his turnout coat, and followed.

Bar tucked securely under his arm, Johnny yanked on his gloves, brushing in irritation at the pelting, slanting rain that was nailing his face at just the right angle. He stifled a cough as he moved up behind the deputy, laying a warning hand on the man’s shoulder to alert him to his presence.

“What do we have?” He queried, stepping up to the pinched door and angling sideways and downwards to look into the Ford Pinto.

“Looks like one occupant, out cold. I called for an ambulance already. If you’ve got it, Johnny, I need to take a look for what caused that. There’s gotta be another car around here somewhere.” Bob Pauling stepped back and motioned towards the front of the vehicle, which showed extensive damage.

Johnny turned his head to look at the crumpled metal and then swept his glance left towards the road. Not seeing anything obvious, his eyes moved briefly to scan the wide ribbon of gravel and weeds in front of them and the pole, and then slid right again to the wire fence several feet in front of the nose of the vehicle. The chain link provided a flimsy barrier against people and cars entering the wide, deep flood control channel beyond. Usually dry or littered with stagnant pools of water caught in the dips of the bottom, today the sloping, cement sides of this particular channel were doing their intended job of funneling and rushing the gallons of water towards the ocean.

“Yeah, see what you mean,” he acknowledged, stepping forward and sliding the bar into place. He grunted with the effort but the door obliged him and popped open. He dropped the clawed bar with a clang, feeling the presence of his partner as the extra hands helped him force the door open and back. Johnny knelt on the passenger seat with his left knee, braced his right foot on the floor, and leaned forward. He turned the key off in the ignition after throwing the floor shifter into park.

“Stupid sub compact cars,” he muttered into his coat as he hastily pulled off a glove. He promptly smacked his helmeted head on the cloth covered ceiling when he leaned forward and inadvertently rose up at the same time. He yanked the helmet off and tossed it on the litter strewn floor mat. He had just started the visual assessment when he heard DeSoto’s steady voice over his right shoulder.

“What do you need?”

“Definitely a cervical collar, backboard……” he hesitated for a brief second, than with his right hand did a cross draw, drawing out his pen light from the paramedic pouch on his left hip. “Hold on a minute and I’ll let you know what else….”

He gently leaned the victim back against the seat, penlight clenched between his teeth. After checking for pupil response, he checked the still unconscious young man, probably around his own age, for signs of trauma. The steady pulse, normal respirations, and the response to the light calmed and slightly slowed his own nervous movements; for the first time in hours John felt his confidence growing instead of eroding away. Not detecting any signs of fractures or internal injuries, he turned his head towards Roy and finished his sentence.

“Responds strong to pain stimuli, but only slightly towards verbal. Respirations and pulse both normal. Possible concussion, he has a laceration, here,” Johnny tapped a forefinger on his own forehead. Roy nodded and withdrew without another word, his head down and shoulders hunched as he sloshed towards the needed equipment.

Gage lifted and turned his head and stared out of the spider webbed windshield, contemplating the fence and the fast flowing water beyond. He felt the car rock slightly as the engine crew forced the hood open. Another siren approaching intermingled with the sounds occurring around him; the ambulance no doubt, he thought as he focused his attention back on the man in front of him. He cut the lap belt with his scissors and checked the victim’s stomach again for any signs of tenderness or guarding. Nothing, again, and extraction seemed to be a simple thing; well simple if you considered pulling a two hundred pound man out of a sardine can. Even though the front of the car was damaged, the destruction had not intruded too far into the interior of the vehicle. The man’s legs and feet were, thankfully, clear.

Five minutes later the victim was properly collared, back boarded, and slid out the passenger side of the little blue Pinto. Johnny wormed his way out of the back seat; somehow he had ended up there during the odd maneuvering they had had to do to get the guy out. He glanced towards the trunk of the car, thinking that the whole scenario could have been a lot worse. He hadn’t seen it himself, but he had heard several stories of these cars being rear ended and catching on fire. Judging by the way the passenger side door had been crunched shut even though the car sustained no damage on that side, he could only imagine the impossibility of crawling out of this death trap if the poor guy had been hit from behind.

He crawled out of the car and caught himself from falling, just in time, as his feet slid forward on the soupy gravel and dirt mixture. He winced as his sore muscles protested every movement that he made. Grabbing the closed bio-phone box lying abandoned beside the car, he headed for the ambulance. Because of the rain, the medics had agreed to hold off on the transmission to the hospital until they got the victim into the transport. Roy and the two attendants were carrying the backboard towards the ambulance at a fast trot and he followed behind, just in time to grab a back corner of the board with one hand and help them load the now slightly awake but disoriented man.

John handed off the wet, orange box to the closest attendant, who in turn passed it to Roy. Stepping out of way as the driver clambered down and headed for the front of the vehicle, Gage watched while the victim was securely strapped to the gurney, still on the backboard, and covered with a blanket. Only when Roy had strapped on the BP cuff and started the transmission with the hospital, did he step back and prepare to swing the doors shut. He paused as DeSoto peered out of the ambulance at him and gestured with his free hand.

“We ok?” Roy’s cryptic question, black phone nestled between his neck and shoulder, was met with a waterlogged and slightly puzzled smile; Johnny raised a bare hand and made the ok sign with his thumb and index finger before closing the two doors and sealing the men in. Two thumps on the door and the driver of the ambulance set the siren and lights and proceeded cautiously down the road.

John stared thoughtfully at the departing ambulance, wondering what that had been about. Okay about what, exactly? He didn’t recall anything disagreeable happening between them and since their conversation in the locker room had been interrupted before he had laid bare his soul, it most certainly had nothing to do with his attempted disclosure. There had been no words between them in the truck at all, except that brief comment about the Alameda tunnel, so unless it had to do with their early morning chat in the day room…no, it wasn’t that, Roy had seemed cool with their little talk. In fact, he had been very attentive and encouraging, almost like he really cared about Johnny’s family and his juvenile exploits. He had been more then open about his own family and the questions John had ricocheted back to him, so that left something else.

He was beginning to believe that maybe they were too much of a mismatched pair to be able to work together effectively. His earlier thoughts about not being able to figure Roy out and it being okay, well, now it didn’t seem like a good idea. After all, if he couldn’t understand a simple question coming from Roy in the back of an ambulance, how in God’s name was he supposed to figure out something when they were hanging two hundred feet down the side of a cliff and time really counted? That was the second thing in less than an hour that had confused him about DeSoto, and while maybe time might increase his understanding he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that. He had enough odd things going on in his personal life without adding work related anxiety to the mix. Plus, there was that time factor thing……Johnny wasn’t known for his patience; he had to admit, that one rumor about him was definitely true!

Shrugging his shoulders in some bewilderment over DeSoto’s inquiry and wondering what he had missed this time, John yanked his collar up and trudged his way back towards the Pinto, feeling the water slap over his ankle high boots and definitely reaping the unwanted result of soaked pant legs and socks. He retrieved his helmet from the floor of the car and looped the strap through his arm, letting it hang as he checked for any equipment or debris that they might have left behind. He didn’t bother slapping the headgear onto his dripping head until he was several feet behind his captain, who stood conversing with one of the deputies.

“Gage.” The captain acknowledged his paramedic with the one word but stopped his continued progress with a raised hand, head slightly bent as he listened to something the sergeant was telling him. Conversation concluded he shifted his attention back to his medic. “Follow up to Rampart?”

“Yes, Sir,” Johnny answered, pointing his own finger towards the departed ambulance. He dropped his hand and resisted the urge to raise it back up and rub his eyes; the headache that had been lurking in the shadows since he crawled out of his bed that morning after the short nap had returned with a vengeance, threatening to bring back the nausea that had finally dissipated. And to top it all off, his chest was starting to feel tight, no doubt a result of yesterday’s two plunges into the Dominguez Channel during that overtime shift and the continual exposure this shift to the precipitation that was enveloping him right now in an envelope of damp, chilling rivulets.

“Go ahead then,” Hammer commanded softly, waving fingers again, but this time in dismissal. John nodded and sloshed his way to the squad, observing with detached interest Chet Kelly pulling the reel line back while Marco disappeared around the side of the Crown, no doubt to check with their engineer specialist and finish up their own cleanup.

He slumped into the seat of the squad, leaning forward over the steering wheel and finally allowing himself to cough productively without interruption for several seconds; he wiped his mouth and leaned back, closing his eyes briefly before reaching a hand forward to start the truck. He paused, hand on the gear shift, as he looked out at the view in front of him and again processed what Pauling had said. If he squinted, he could make out through the rain blurred glass the revolving lights and the distorted colors of two black and white patrol cars ahead of him and beyond the smashed Pinto. He switched on the wipers and obtained a clearer view; judging by the movements and the search going on in front of him they had not yet located anything else. He threw the squad into drive and angled it between the engine and the Pinto; after checking for traffic he eased out onto the road.

He had just driven past several of the yellow coated deputies when his HT squawked with a summons; John reached out a questing hand and pulled it from the seat. He depressed the button, slowing down and lifting his eyes to check the mirrors. “HT 51, go ahead Engine 51.”

Stoker’s voice replied over the channel. “Gage, they’ve located a second vehicle in the flood control channel about two hundred feet behind that Pinto.”

“10-4,” Johnny replied, pulling over. He checked for traffic and then made a U-turn. Passing the wrecked car once again, he could see several deputies standing near the fence. He pulled across the road in a wide turn and settled the rescue vehicle ahead of the gathering, facing it. He looked over at the mesh fence that ran parallel along the concrete basin to keep out foot traffic; definitely not designed to keep a spinning out of control vehicle from tearing through it. He sighed and picked up the HT once again, jamming it down into the depths of his turnout pocket. Swinging his legs out of the squad, he stood up and neatly stepped into a puddle of mud with both feet. He took out his frustration with a slam of the door and schlepped his way forward to the men gathered around the now obvious, gaping hole in the wire fence. Funny how none of them, himself included, had noticed the damage when they had passed it.

Two deputies peered through the driving rain at the green Dodge Charger already partly submerged and bobbing perpendicular to the canal walls. There was no sign of movement in the car; Gage knew they only had minutes, if that, to attempt a rescue before whatever was holding the car in its precarious position released its tenuous grip. It was unbelievable that the hot rod had remained snagged for so long; he couldn’t even imagine what was keeping it in place. He heard the growl of the Crown as Mike pulled it into position behind him, heard the crunching of gravel under hurrying feet following him as he trod gingerly to the edge of the channel and calculated what needed to be done.

“Cap, shoot a line over to the other side and I’ll go across, take some belts with me, not enough time for anything else,” Johnny suggested, not turning his head to verify that it was indeed the 51 crew coming up behind. He hoped that whoever was in that car didn’t have back or neck injuries; the swift, rough handling that he was going to have to do could cause further, irreversible damage.

Hammer nodded and yelled at Stoker to get the line gun from the engine. He glanced at the bobbing car and stopped John with a hand on his shoulder as he turned around to head towards the squad. “Right. Think you’ll have time to get at least one line on it?”

The dark haired paramedic squinted against the rain, which had slowed to an annoying drizzle, and answered the question honestly. “Not sure, I’ll give it a try though….”

The captain nodded again and dropped his arm to his side, releasing Gage and silently giving him the okay to go ahead. He studied the canal for another long moment than swung around and made his way back to the engine to contact dispatch, his head swiveling around to locate his men and give orders as needed.

Kelly, bolt cutters tucked under his arm, was already hoofing his way towards the double gate in the fence that allowed access to the private, single lane bridge that crossed the flood control channel. By the time Johnny had returned to the squad and grabbed the belts and ropes that he needed, Chet had cut the lock on the gate, sprinted across the bridge, and rapidly covered the distance from the cement arch to a point directly across from them. He waved a hand and began cutting the fence that also traversed his side; while he did this, the paramedic stripped down to his uniform shirt and cinched the wide belt on. He pulled the spanner from his turnout coat before tossing it and his navy blue jacket into the compartment of the squad and slapping it shut. As he trotted back towards his captain, he slid the spanner into his rear pocket of his pants.

When Kelly was ready, Mike shot the line over and the hemp rope was pulled across and knotted to the steel frame; the frame comprised the outer edge of a grid containing pipes that led back to the refinery behind the lineman. Lopez secured his working end to the engine that had already been moved into position and deftly caught the ends of the two ropes that Gage tossed at him as he moved past. Stoker leapt into the cab and reversed the Crown, pulling the line taut.

Standing at the edge of the channel, Johnny quickly fastened the ends of the ropes in his hand to his carbineer with quick release knots and dropped the coils of rope at his feet. He then clipped the carbineer to the strung out line. For a brief second, his eyes locked with that of his new captain. He nodded in understanding and grabbed the strung out rope with both hands, then swung his legs up and crossed them at the ankles. The rope dipped down with his weight but he was at least a good foot above the water line as he pulled himself along the rope, hand to hand, an extra belt swinging beneath him where it was looped through his own belt. The two ropes attached to his clip played out as he moved and he could see that Captain Hammer and Marco had each grabbed one and were stepping backwards in preparation to tie them off.

Moving swiftly, it took less than a minute for him to draw abreast of the bobbing vehicle. He stared through the opened passenger side window and was amazed but thankful that the floating vehicle appeared to be empty. He rested his right shoulder against the door frame and did a thorough visual search of the front seat before inching forward along the rope several inches and scanning the back seat and floor. He heaved a sigh of relief at the emptiness, but then let loose a shuddering breath as he realized the alternative. He couldn’t stop the dark thought from entering his mind that since the car was empty there might very well be a victim somewhere in the water. If that was the case, it was completely out of his control, for now anyways; he had to let that thought go and focus on finishing the job at hand.

As he swung his upper body into the car, letting his back rest on the door frame and his right shoulder lean on the back edge of the passenger seat, the car swayed ominously below him. He could feel the frigid water greedily grabbing at his hips; the water level seemed to have risen at least six inches in the five minutes that he had been straddling the rope. Gripping the headrest with his right hand he quickly checked the car one last time and then pushed himself off the vinyl and out of the car. His right side bumping awkwardly against the green metal, he shimmied forward several more feet towards the waiting group on the bank. He uncrossed his ankles and heaved his body up onto the trunk of the car, unclipping the carbineer as he turned his body sideways to face downstream.

Sitting on the trunk of the car with his legs stretched out in front of him, John pulled the spanner from his pocket and quickly shattered the glass on the back window. With his gloved hand he swiped at the remaining broken shards, than swiftly pulled on the slip knot of one of the ropes tied to his carbineer. Rising on his knees, he turned to face the front of the car. He thrust his left arm through the now vacant space and hugged the window post with both arms. With his right hand, he grabbed the end of the rope dangling from his other hand and pulled the rope through, knotting it quickly. He repeated the process on the other side, thankful that both windows were open. This effectively anchored the car, at least temporarily, with a rope on each side. He felt the slack being taken up on both lines and knew his crewmates were tying off the lines to the engine.

Drawing his legs up under him, he spun around on his rear and inched forward. He pushed down the first rope that he had tied off and sat on it as he reached a hand over to grab his own anchor line. Sitting on the trunk of the car, legs dangling over the side, he pulled the line towards him. He clipped his belt to it and replaced his right hand on the hemp. He pushed carefully off the car, holding his left arm up against the trunk to hold himself in place as he swung his long legs up once again around the line and prepared to start his journey back to the bank. He felt the car lurch against his left shoulder; he grabbed at his rope. He cursed softly as simultaneously his right wet gloved hand slid on the rope, the swipe at the rope with his left hand missed, and whatever mystery object was holding the vehicle released its grip.

The Charger spun in a counter clockwise direction and stopped with a lurch, held in place by the straining but holding ropes. The violent movement bounced Johnny out and away from the car and then swung him back and slapped him hard against the now angled car; it jarred him enough to dislodge his tenuous, half handed grip on the rope. The line inexplicably sagged and he felt the carbineer slide downhill as his fingers lost their precarious grasp. He dimly heard a muffled shout as his head and shoulders arched backwards and sliced downward into the water. He involuntarily gasped in pain as the belt tightened around his middle and the liquid filled his mouth….

 

~TBC~

  * __Dialogue from the premier episode, written by Cinader and Bloom.__



 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                            


	11. Chapter 11

 

He would think later that some people saw their lives flashing before their eyes when they were facing death, but his brain definitely was not wired that way, at least while submerged in water. Maybe it was the logical part of his gray matter stepping in and protesting that the grim reaper wouldn’t be skulking anywhere near John Gage today; after all, he was still hooked by belt and legs to a rope and there were men who would get to him in time before he died a horrendous and painful death by drowning. Or perhaps it was because his thoughts were straying onto a path that was twisted and dark. How many screw-ups was he going to have in this shift? Throwing up on a rescue, leaving equipment behind, getting high and almost flying over an embankment in a van, and now dropping head first into a canal were all actions that were positively not going to get him an employee of the month award……

Even though his thoughts were splintering into a thousand different directions, his physical reactions were immediate and focused. At the moment gravity stopped pulling him downwards into the churning, sucking maelstrom and he felt the halting pull of the belt, he forced his badly abused stomach muscles into use once again. They screamed in protest as he employed them to pull himself up out of the water. His eyes squeezed shut, he grabbed blindly but accurately for the rope, spewing out water and gasping for air at the suddenness of the unexpected plunge.

Locking his wrists around the slick rope, Gage pulled himself as close to the rope as he could manage, trying to release some of the bruising pressure biting into his skin from the safety belt. He hung there a few seconds, panting and gathering the strength to move. Still spitting and eyes scrunched closed, he slowly shimmied his way down the line, forcing his quivering leg muscles to finish the job. Eager hands grabbed at his shoulders and then his belt, helping him close and then complete the distance. He barely felt himself being lifted up enough for the clip to be unfastened before his boots finally hit solid ground and the rest of him followed in a flow of boneless flesh. He had to lean on whoever was standing next to him as his trembling leg muscles refused to cooperate and let him remain upright.

Johnny barely noticed the belt being removed from his waist, or his turnout coat mysteriously appearing from the squad and dropped gently onto his wet shoulders. He obediently lifted his arms as someone slid them into the sleeves and didn’t even feel the yellow blanket settling over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the ropes were still holding the car in place, for now. He blinked and focused in on the voice that was trying to get his attention. It was Captain Hammer, a hand on his shoulder urging him towards the squad. He stumbled but managed to find his footing and weave in the direction he was being propelled towards, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach and his dark, dripping head tilted down to watch the placement of his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok,” he finally answered, as the assertive hand pushed him down into the squad’s seat. He raised a not so steady hand and wiped at the water still sluicing from his hair. “A bit wet…”

Hammer bent down and peered closer at him upon hearing the surprising, halfhearted quip; Johnny, feeling the concerned stare, lifted his head and met the Captain’s eyes. Gage couldn’t help the shiver that enveloped him, a mixture of cold and foreboding, and he shifted his gaze to look beyond Hammer’s shoulder, absently using the blanket to swipe at his hair.

“Cap, those ropes, and there was no one in that car.”

“I know, John. The ropes, well, they will hold as long as they hold. Hopefully the Public Works people get their equipment here soon.” Hammer half turned so that he could look towards the flowing water. “As for the driver, you were tied in and felt the force of the water….”

He left his sentence unfinished and straightened up fully, authority reasserting itself as he peered intently over the roof of the squad and checked on the activity still going on. Johnny swallowed back the sour taste of bile rising in his throat and leaned wearily back against the seat, drawing the edges of the plastic around him. He closed his eyes and couldn’t help but mentally visualize the driver jumping out of that car, thinking he was safe, and then going on a wild, unexpected ride down the canal. He could recall quite vividly the brief moment of panic that had swept over him as he had felt the water pull at him, beckoning and enticing him to keep his head under. Even the knowledge that his legs were still wrapped around the rope, and his safety belt was firmly clipped in place, had not lessened or alleviated that dizzying blur of fear. He shuddered and resolutely tightened his jaw against the physical weakness overtaking him and the mental shadows that were threatening to envelope him in their cloak of blackness.

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Captain Hammer relaxed his commanding stance somewhat when he realized that his crew was doing exactly what they needed to do. Chet Kelly was just returning from his journey to the other side of the canal after untying his end of the rope that Gage had used. Judging by the condition of his pants, Kelly had taken a slide in the mud. Apparently he had flew the return leg as fast as the incredible rabbit leaping pace he had used to get over to the other side, only this time several feet had been accomplished on his backside. The captain couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped him as he noticed Kelly swiping furtively at his rear as he half danced his way around the back of the Crown. Good fireman, that Kelly, but there seemed to be a comedic side emerging from the curly haired lineman, whether intentional or not, Hammer wasn’t quite sure. He exuded confidence, maybe sometimes too much, but he seemed to be able to keep it contained when needed. He was studying for the engineer’s exam, but Dick wasn’t quite sure if Chet was ready for that yet. Sometimes it seemed that the often glib lineman did a lot of running when he should be walking.

Kelly’s counterpart, black haired Lopez, had neatly coiled the wet strands of Gage’s rope and stowed it away in one of the compartments; Hammer had no doubt that once they returned to the station Lopez would remove the rope and lay it out to dry. He would also tag it for further inspection; once it had dried it would need to be checked for damage. Hammer had seen it catch on the mirror of the Charger and throw Gage off balance; it had been hung up for only seconds but it had been enough for the paramedic to catch an unwanted baptizing.

Excluding himself, Marco was the oldest man on the crew. He also had the experience under his belt to match. Despite his knowledge, the often quiet man didn’t seem to have the desire to crawl up the promotion ladder. The captain had heard several casual comments made about Lopez’s interest in cooking and also knew that he had a friend who owned a restaurant. Apparently Marco liked to spend some of his down time helping out this friend in the kitchen, learning the intricacies of preparing food; maybe this explained his lack of interest in going further within the fire department. Which was good, Dick reasoned. Pulling hoses and running up and down ladders every shift was a job for the younger men in their twenties and into their thirties. Marco might have a few more years left in him physically, but it showed his cleverness and foresight if he was already embarking on his training for his second career.

He also liked how the Hispanic lineman was methodical in his actions, almost like he was reviewing and checking off a giant list in his head. In his case, though, he did it so quick and efficient that Dick figured the list idea was in his own imagination, unless Lopez used shorthand? The captain snorted in dismay at the odd slice of Kelly humor that had penetrated his own mental evaluations of his men and tapped an annoyed hand on the roof of the squad.

Closing the door, Marco trotted around to the front of the engine and checked that the ropes were still securely fastened; he straightened up and peered towards the channel as if assessing the time left on the straining strands of hemp. Hammer watched as Marco came to a decision and slapped the front of the engine, no doubt communicating something to the equally vigilant engineer perched in the driver’s seat. Mike’s head nodded in agreement; he leaned out of his seat and carried on a five second conversation with Lopez, who had moved back around the muddy Crown to stand several feet away. Marco shook his head and Mike nodded again. The brief dialogue concluded with Marco trudging off in the direction that Kelly had taken, who had now completely disappeared from Hammer’s sight The captain lifted his eyebrows and wondered what those two had been bantering back and forth; he was glad to see the interaction between the two men even though he had a strange feeling that the discussion didn’t bode well for Chet Kelly.

Captain Hammer slid his gaze back to Stoker, who had resumed his upright position in the engine, keeping an eagle eye on the ropes and waiting for his reinforcements to arrive. He was definitely engineer material; even though this was only his second assignment in his fairly new position, he seemed wholly comfortable with it. Hammer had no misgivings about his ability to do the job and was confident that if Stoker had to pick up the reins of command in his stead that he would be an equally excellent leader. He would, however, need to find his authority voice. Any voice actually, to start with. Right now it seemed that the tallest member of his crew didn’t have a whole lot to say, and while that worked well when he was paired with the gregarious Kelly, it definitely wouldn’t fly if he had to issue orders in a tense situation. The captain, though, was pretty sure that Mike’s silence was deliberate, and that he kept his spoken words to what was absolutely necessary. If the situation warranted it, the words would flow out of Stoker’s mouth as fast and sure as the water spraying out of one of the charged hoses.

Dick thoughtfully scratched at his jaw. No directions or commands had been issued, yet the three men had followed their instincts using their training and years of prior experience to effortlessly work together and perform their self-assigned tasks well. The medics had completed their rescue just as successfully, getting that young man out of that wrecked car in well-coordinated movements. The medical side of the incident Hammer couldn’t really make a judgement on quite yet; he was slowly but steadfastly absorbing the jargon that the paramedics, with obvious growing confidence, exchanged between themselves and the hospital. Of course, the several medical books and training manuals stacked neatly on his desk were helping decipher the previously incomprehensible words. For most of his fire career, the healing part of his work had consisted of knowing how to use the oxygen. Now Dick had a chance to change that, and he was moving very quickly towards his personal goal to familiarize himself with as much of the new program as he could.

As for that second rescue…….Dick glanced back down at the youngest member of his team, in the station actually, and allowed a grim smile to tug at his mouth. Impetuous maybe, daring definitely, stubborn always, but reckless or defiant assuredly not. He had seen no examples of the infamous Gage temper an acquaintance had warned him about, only a serious, dedicated rescue man who was somewhat tentatively feeling his way through the medical side of things. The only flaw that Hammer had seen in the shivering, yellow swathed figure below him was a barely noticeable wariness in dealing with the victims and their families, a hesitancy or unease that would evaporate with time. Hammer had experienced that himself. While he was sure that Gage and DeSoto had been taught excellent paramedic skills, Hammer had a feeling that they had received little or no training in dealing with the public. In the past, as firemen, their interaction with the citizens was limited; it was when they started ascending the chain of command that diplomacy and tact were absolutely necessary. The paramedic program had changed all of that. Dick knew it was only a matter of time before additional training was going to be required for his rescue men.

DeSoto seemed comfortable with the whole process, but then again, the older medic had been with the department longer and had also served in the army. He seemed steadfast in both the rescue and medical side of the business, and displayed, for the most part, a rather calm demeanor. Hammer also knew that Roy could be assertive and outspoken if the need arose; he seemed to be able to choose his battles well. Hopefully his new partner would soon catch the nuances and learn that patience was indeed a virtue, especially when dealing with the usually hysterical and often angry folks that paid their salaries.

The captain of Station 51 dropped his hands from the roof and finally spied the now thoroughly soaked figure of Chet Kelly. Dejection was dripping off of him as fast as the water. He trudged with weary steps towards the Dodge truck, the captain his obvious target. Hammer moved away from the cab, gently closing the door, which elicited no response from the man within except for the slight rustling of plastic and a soft sigh.

“Kelly,” Hammer said, as the curly haired lineman finally moved into range and stopped several feet away, half of him hidden behind the vehicle. “Take the squad to Rampart and make sure Gage gets checked out. See you back at the barn.”

Chet nodded, words suddenly failing him. He circled around behind the squad and laid a still gloved hand on the handle of the driver’s door. The captain, who was following him, noted the slumped shoulders and wasn’t quite sure whether they were bowed in defeat or weariness.

Hammer’s next words stopped the sodden figure in his tracks. “And Kelly, good job and initiative with the canal run…”

“Yes Sir! All in a day’s work!” Chet responded proudly, the unexpected reel line hosing assault by Lopez promptly forgotten in the surprising but welcome praise from their usually tight lipped captain .His lips curled upward in delight as he quickly unfastened his turnout coat. As he opened the driver’s door, he tossed the sodden garment onto the seat. He jumped in, started the ignition, and then chanced a fast glance at the immobile lump in the seat next to him.

Blinking eyes looked back at him, water still dripping off the black hair and down the sides of his face. Gage moved his lips as if about to make a comment, but then turned his head and settled back into the beige seat. He brushed a hand in irritation at the water then pulled the plastic up around his neck and crossed his arms under the covering, so that only his fingers were visible.

Chet figured the blanket was probably only protecting the seat and not actually giving any warmth; he reached over and flipped the fan speed to high, making sure the heat was on. He pulled off the glove on his right hand and let his bare fingers stray to the communications radio. He unobtrusively twitched the volume down; no need for any of that radio chatter to penetrate the sanctum of the cab. His fingers danced over to the turnout coat and scrabbled for a moment, making sure that his HT was still concealed within the pocket. He was pretty sure that it was only going to be a matter of time before they found the driver of that Charger; hopefully the discovery wouldn’t be broadcast over the channel until AFTER they had exited the vehicle and Gage would be safely out of earshot.

Kelly rolled his eyes back to the windshield and settled his hand on the gearshift. As he pulled out into the street, he swallowed hard and bit his lip, unnerved by the sight of his crewmate waterlogged and miserable. John’s skin was a ghostly white, and Chet could have sworn that his lips looked blue. Plus the bruising down the side of his face reminded him of one of those terrain maps he had stuffed into the glovebox of his car, all greens and blues. Well, maybe there was some purple in there too, kinda hard to tell in the graying light surrounding them.

“Hey John….” Chet began, wondering if he was going to get a response. He did, even though it was a plain “huh?” that constituted Gage’s reply.

“Just curious, you know….. How do you like being a paramedic?”

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For almost ten minutes, Kelly kept a steady stream of chatter aimed at John. He purposely asked questions, trying to draw the other man out of his stupor. Maybe if he distracted him enough, he would feel better. Chet wasn’t sure what wrong with him, but he had seen him take his head first dip in the cold, dirty water. He’d also seen him spitting and coughing as he wormed his way along the rope back to the bank, so he’d probably swallowed a gallon of that nasty stuff.

He liked the skinny paramedic slumped on the seat next to him, he really did. Chet had to admit, though, that there was another reason he was trying to engage him in a two sided conversation. Right now, Johnny was at the top of Chet’s list for future shenanigans. This was a perfect time to draw some information out of him to finesse his methods, now that they were alone in the cab, even if Johnny wasn’t at his best.

Chet never seemed to be able to catch the medic by himself without triggering some kind of wary, instinctive reaction. The several times that he had been able to get to Gage, usually in the locker room, the other man had reacted to his subtle attempts to extract data by simply turning his questions right back at him. If he asked the question of “where did you go to school?” John would answer “here and there, where did YOU go to school?” until Chet felt that he was on a political merry go round, words flowing fluently from the other man’s mouth but not one personal question actually answered. Of course, maybe his queries really hadn’t been that indirect, but still, wasn’t it polite conversation to at least respond to some of the questions with straight answers?

Chet had had no intentions of starting up his pranks again at his new station; he had simply decided to move on and find another outlet for his adoration and appreciation for tomfoolery. He had even considered becoming a stand-up comedian but had decided that his interest leaned towards a different kind of humor. He was certain that he could have been a writer for one of those guys that specialized in physical, slapstick comedy; it was too bad those vaudeville acts no longer graced the stages. It just seemed to be a shame to waste all of the ideas that he had brewing.

His future career plans thwarted for the moment and laid on a back burner to simmer, Chet had turned his attention to his new crewmates. It had all started innocently enough. They, the single guys, meaning Johnny, Marco, and himself, had met up several times on their nights off. To Chet, at the time, it was an uncomplicated attempt to get to know his fellow crewmates better - mainly Johnny. There had been no ulterior motive involved in the casual get togethers; he had simply never met or worked with Gage before.

He had discovered, however, during those pool shooting forays that the paramedic was an odd duck. He blew hot and cold and changed moods faster than the temperamental heating system in his van. After getting his butt whipped in pool, Kelly had sat back and watched John and Marco shoot the balls around the green, felt covered table in friendly but competitive play. He had realized then that the energetic Gage, while displaying some street worthy mannerisms, was also naïve and awkward, notably when he had to deal with the chicks.

That conclusion had set the wheels in motion within Kelly’s brain. He had decided at the moment to resurrect the “phantom” at his new station; he would have to check the other guys out for potential “pigeons”, but had decided that John Gage was definitely going to be the main target. He just needed to change his approach to gather some ammo on his unsuspecting pigeon, which was what he was attempting now.

Unfortunately, that was not working either. Maybe he was losing his touch, Chet mused, flicking another quick glance over to his right. All of Johnny’s answers were one words, or even worse, grunts, and involved pulling each word from him, one by one by one. The whole tortuous process reminded Chet of the machines that made taffy; the sticky goo slowly winding and stretching itself out into an impossibly long, twisted length of sweetness.

Probably should give up for now, Chet decided with a sympathetic sigh, and make further attempts when his passenger’s brain was at least partly engaged or dried out. He could wait as long as needed; it would just give him more time to plan his strategy. And, that one brief flicker of uncertainty about his own ability to gather data, well that was only because he didn’t have Gage pegged into a hole yet. Kelly was confident he’d get this guy figured out eventually. After all, you don’t grow up with an abundance of siblings and not learn how to read people or how to cope with strange situations.

But still, if this was the way that all the men of the station were going to communicate, then Kelly figured he had his work cut out for him. Stoker was downright impossible to carry on a normal conversation with; the engineer might be a bright guy but there was no way he had made it through speech class in school with an “A”. In fact, how in the world had he managed to meet a chick and marry her, if he couldn’t string more than three words together at a time? But then again, maybe three words were all he had needed! Chet couldn’t wait to meet the woman who had untied Mike’s tongue. As far as being a potential target for his pranks, Chet had looked into the lanky man’s eyes and instantly erased him from the list. Mike Stoker was just not a person to be trifled with.

Marco, well, Chet had worked with him for a bit over at 8s in West Hollywood. While he clearly had more words in his vocabulary then the mute engineer, he could be quite stingy with them at times. Of course he also had the distracting habit of breaking into his ancestors’ native dialect whenever he was perturbed, or couldn’t seem to express himself. Chet had picked up a few words of the lingo, but he still had a long ways to go before he would be able to converse, or even understand, the easy flowing language with any accuracy to it. He supposed it was because he was a bit lazy, but really, he just didn’t have the time right now to learn a second language. It was bad enough keeping up with his own family’s odd mix of accents, dialects, and just the Kelly slang as their tribe referred to it.

Because they were both single, the linemen hung out together quite a bit while off shift while at 8s, and still continued to do so. They had even met each other’s extended family members on several occasions. Chet was pretty sure that Marco’s family was bigger than his own, but sometimes it was pretty hard to tell with all of the cousins, second cousins and various other relatives popping out of the woodwork every time there was some kind of family get together. As far as friends went, Chet counted Lopez as one of his inner circle; he was someone you could talk to and not worry about confidences popping out somewhere else when you least expected it. He knew Marco felt the same way, being privy to some of the older man’s secrets, hopes and plans for the future, and just some old fashioned gossip about some of the people they had worked with. Of course that also meant that Lopez was fully aware of Chet’s devious little schemes; he also believed that Chet had decided to retire his shenanigans or at least lay them aside for an indefinite period at this new station.

Marco had no clue that his friend had changed his mind and had begun his hunt for a pigeon at their new station. Chet thought that he would keep him in the dark for a bit longer even though he usually didn’t have much to say concerning the plots Chet was always hatching. His pal, for the most part, stayed silent unless he thought Kelly was overstepping the safety or common sense boundaries. So, since Lopez was privy to all of Chet’s little schemes, this immediately eliminated his friend from the list. That narrowed it down to just the two medics, since of course the Captain couldn’t be counted!

Now Roy DeSoto, he was still a nut that he needed to crack; he was even harder to understand then mercurial Gage. Chet had decided that he would have to watch paramedic DeSoto very closely. From the moment he had met him, Chet had pegged him for a serious, by the book kind of guy that probably wouldn’t tolerate a face full of water or flour in his sheets. But as the days rolled into several weeks of shifts working closely together, he had begun to wonder if DeSoto was keeping a dark sense of humor tightly under wraps. He had observed him rolling his eyes once or twice at something his new partner did or said; he had felt the sharp and sly undercurrent to some of his comments, words that weren’t directed at anyone in particular but just seemed to appear at the perfect moment when something out of the ordinary was said or done. Maybe that was just the way that DeSoto moved in life, friendly and smooth on the surface and a little bit rough underneath.

Chet had decided that he understood that combination. It just proved that the seemingly good guy Roy DeSoto had some flaws, minor maybe, but flaws none the less. But after observing the new medic, Chet couldn’t decide how he would respond to the planned pranks he was about to implement. Something told him that DeSoto might not mind the occasional water dousing, but anything more involved might trigger a hidden temper. He had crossed him off the list of potential targets, at least for now.

He kept up his aimless chatter for several more minutes, even though there were no longer any responding grunts coming from Gage. Uneasiness stole over him as he wondered if maybe he had bored the poor man to sleep, or had he passed out? Braking for the right turn onto the road that led to the Emergency department, Chet reached out his hand intending to shake Johnny’s shoulder. The hand dropped in relief when he saw him reach out an arm to brace his hand against the dashboard for the turn. The relief was short lived, however, at the words that tumbled out of the paramedic’s mouth.

“Chet, pull over.”

“What?” Chet asked incredulously, not understanding why he needed to perform that action when they were so close to the entrance of Rampart.

“Now, Kelly, now!” Gage choked in reply, one hand going up to his mouth and the other fumbling with the door handle. Chet quickly eased the truck over as he finally understood the urgency. Johnny, tangled up in the plastic still wrapped around him, fell sideways out of the door, caught his foot in the gap between the running board and the cement curb, and twisted awkwardly to his back onto the wet grass. Chet scooted across the seat, alarmed at the sounds he was hearing. The one that was really worrying him was the gasped out “aspirate” he heard over the noise of the plastic and the frantic struggles of the other man to roll onto his side. He was pretty sure he knew what that meant, and it was definitely not something that should take place.

He dropped to his knees next to Gage, just in time to help him tear loose of the wrap and roll haltingly but effectively to his side. Chet climbed to his feet and moved back, his movements clumsy and unsure. He could charge into a building red with flames and black with smoke or jump into ten foot deep water without pause, but this, this was not something he was used to. He wanted to help Johnny; he just wasn’t sure of how to handle the situation. Should he call for help, even though they were only yards away from the hospital? Or stay back and let nature run its course, and wait for the medically knowledgeable man in front of him to cue him in on his next step? Surely Gage was just spewing up the canal water because he had just swallowed too much; it couldn’t be because, no, that just wasn’t possible, no matter what his sisters said.

Chet took a determined step forward, and then another to bring him behind his crewmate. He crouched back down and laid a hand on John’s shoulder, observing the panting breaths and the skin color that had changed from white to grey.

“John....” he began softly, forcing a cheerful note into his voice and a half smile onto his lips. Gage acknowledged him by shifting to his stomach, then forcing himself to his hands and knees. He turned his hanging head towards Kelly and cast a miserable glance in his general direction.

“I uh, I uh didn’t make you sick with my chatter, did I? ‘Cause my sisters say I can’t shut up, and that I make them sick by talking all the time.” Chet forced the words out in a rush, grabbing the yellow blanket and crumpling it up in a ball to distract him.

Johnny snorted, trying to hold back an incredulous chuckle and failing. The laugh turned into a bout of violent coughing, which led to more vomiting. Kelly hovered uncertainly at his side, biting his lip and wishing he knew what to do with his outstretched hands, which he finally dropped. After several long minutes, when it looked like the medic had nothing left in him and seemed ready to topple over, Chet helped steady him. He helped him to his feet; John tottered several steps to his left and dropped weakly onto the seat. Chet crammed the blanket onto the floorboard and gently shut the door, making sure that Gage didn’t fall out before he got it closed. He ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in, realizing that he had left the vehicle running the whole time.

“I really am sorry,” he apologized, accelerating and wishing that he had never opened his mouth. Johnny looked over at him and shook his head slightly; he crossed his arms and hugged them tight against his chest, trying to thwart off the shivering that had begun again.

“Chet…for crying out loud, it’s not your fault.”

Chet shook his head in denial. He drove the truck in nose first to the right of where the ambulances parked, threw the squad in park, and this time shut the ignition off. Johnny had the door open and his feet flat on the ground by the time he made it around to the other side.

“You’re an idiot, Kelly.” A tiny smile twisted up one corner of Gage’s mouth as he insulted the lineman. Chet pursed his lips, debating a comeback, but instead thrust out his hand. The help was accepted immediately, and even though John’s grip was not exactly impressive and his fingers cold, Kelly understood the message. He smiled back and pulled him up and out, throwing an arm around him to begin the unsteady trek towards the ER doors. He couldn’t resist a parting shot, however, as they approached the automatic doors.

“You know, Johnny-boy, you better stop shaking like that. The nurses will mistake you for a bowl of Jell-O and serve you up for today’s dessert. I hear the food here is…” The whoosh of the doors drowned out the rest of his sentence.

~TBC~

 


	12. Chapter 12

Roy DeSoto sat in the employee lounge at Rampart, hands wrapped around a coffee mug. He wasn’t sure which he was enjoying more – the scalding hot brew scorching his throat or the pleasant warmth that was leaching through the ceramic to his chilled hands. His turnout coat was draped on a chair across from him; he could hear an occasional drip hit the linoleum as the rain water slowly made its way down the stiff material.

His HT sat inches away from his warming hands on the table. He had squelched the volume until it was just a mildly diverting background noise. There wasn’t much that he could do with it, until his partner got here with the squad, except decipher the traffic. He didn’t have to listen too hard to pick out the call signs and was confident he would pick up on any chit chat pertaining to his new station. He smiled, wondering if his hand would automatically shoot out when 41s was mentioned, instead of 51s. Might require a conscious effort on his part, but he was sure he would be able to manage it.

He traced a finger around the rim of cup and glanced out the green curtained window, noting that the rain had finally stopped although the skies remained grey and forbidding. Aside from his collar being damp, his shoes squeaking, and some random streaks of wet on the dark material of his pants, he had escaped the deluge relatively unscathed. Couldn’t say the same thing about Gage, though...he hadn’t missed the fact that there had been no helmet on the rain drenched dark head as they were loading the victim into the ambulance. Just what was it with Johnny and his helmets, anyway? That was the third time this shift that hunk of protective plastic had left the kid’s head in the middle of a rescue.

It also hadn’t escaped his notice that Gage had flung his headgear to the floorboard in that crumpled car. So either he had a short fuse or his impatience wasn’t easily controlled in stressful situations. DeSoto was very curious as to the reason behind that abrupt action; he wondered if he should bring that and the helmet abandonment to John’s attention. He definitely wasn’t a probie and so there was absolutely no reason for that bit of juvenile action.

Roy grimaced, realizing that if one of his older partners had verbally slapped him down for something like that their partnership, if not his career, probably would have ended that shift. He recalled quite vividly how his own temper had burned hot and fast in high school and those several mandatory years he had spent in the army. Few people knew of it because by the time his probation period had been over with the fire department, marriage and job experience had quickly dampened the fiery inferno to a manageable roar. So yes, been there, done that…..so if maybe a bit of a temper was behind Gage’s actions, he completely understood it. After all, his own little blowup with Dr. Brackett this morning had been a carefully controlled, tiny ember that he had purposefully allowed to escape; he had needed to vent his anger and frustration at the way Brackett was verbally targeting his new partner. He had no idea what the problem was and neither one of them seemed to want to enlighten him. The tension that swirled around those two when they were together was so thick that it was a breath taking experience, and he didn’t mean that in a good way.

So no, that wasn’t the way to approach the problem. He sat upright in the plastic chair and stretched his arms up over his head, feeling the satisfying pull of tired muscles. He immediately slumped back into his former position, however; he propped up an elbow on the table and dropped his head into his cupped palm. A parade of possible actions floated through his mind and he dismissed them all, his free hand rubbing against the smooth plain of the Formica surface in an irritated motion.

The best thing, he finally concluded, would be to quit thinking and acting like he was Gage’s boss, because he was not. He was only senior to him because he had more time in on the job, not because he was a better firefighter or a more experienced paramedic. The helmet thing, well, he would just bring that up in a teasing remark and see what his partner’s response would be; he would react to that accordingly. And the tossing of the helmet had been done only in the sight of an unconscious victim, so DeSoto was pretty sure the brief display of anger or impatience or whatever it had been wouldn’t have occurred if John thought it was being witnessed by a civilian. Yes, the medics were responsible for each other, and maybe Roy did have the greater accountability of the pair, but it didn’t extend to treating his younger partner like a kid brother instead of the professional that he clearly was.

This time the expression on Roy’s face was a pleased one; he lifted his suddenly lighter head and savored a long draught of the still warm brew in his mug. Flicking a glance at his watch, he decided that he would give Ann a call and let her know that he was fine, just waiting on transport. C shift was probably lazing around the station, glad for the delayed start of their shift. Or maybe they were chafing at the bit, annoyed at the dearth of vehicles in the station and eager to feel that first rush of adrenaline when the tones sounded their anxious cry. It would sound insensitive to an outsider, but for a lot of the guys the bigger the fire the better they liked it. While Roy didn’t count himself as part of that adrenaline junkie group now, he had to admit that in the beginning of his firefighting career he had often found himself listening to the tones and hoping for something spectacular.

Perhaps it was the challenge of man battling the fiery beast, or the heart pounding fear as you crawled through the pits of hell on your belly and emerged unscathed or slightly singed on the other side; whatever the reason, it was something that a lot of the men never got over. It was what drove them and for some, why they had chosen that profession in the first place. He pondered for a moment the question of how many of the guys on his new shift fell into that stress craving group, or hovered on the edge of it. There hadn’t been any verbal indication yet from any of the men, his partner included, but sometimes there never was. Ultimately it showed in their actions by how aggressively they charged towards danger and possible death.

Shaking his head, he stretched up once again. This time he rose completely to his feet and headed for the door, directing his thoughts back to the phone call he wanted to make. Speculations about the new crew could wait. He stopped just in time when the door opened towards him and disclosed Dixie McCall, carrying her own cup of black liquid.

“Why, Roy!” She exclaimed in surprise and genuine affection. She patted his arm and bee lined to the couch pushed up against the wall and underneath the window. She dropped into it with a relieved grunt, balancing the full cup with experienced ease. “I didn’t see you come in and I haven’t been monitoring the radio at all this morning. Were you the squad with the accident victim?”

Moving back to the table, the blue uniformed man set the almost drained cup down. “Yeah, that was us. Has Johnny come in yet? He had a follow up call on the same incident while I was transporting.”

Opening her eyes, the head nurse hummed an appreciative sigh and lowered the much needed vessel of caffeine from her lips. “No, I haven’t seen him, but I’ve been darting in and out of treatment rooms for the past two, no, make that four, hours nonstop. For some odd reason, all of the Saturday night emergencies rolled themselves over to this morning. Aren’t people supposed to be in church on a fine, damp Sunday morning like this?”

“I think that’s where our guy was headed when he got hit; I believe that’s what he said,” Roy mused, trying to recall the mumbled words. The poor guy had gotten more coherent the closer they had gotten to the hospital but he hadn’t yet progressed to the point of being able to string more than two words together. They had simply run out of time for better communication.

“You know, Roy, maybe John did come in. Thinking about it, I did see two firefighters in their gear rounding the corner as I slipped into one of the treatment rooms.”

“Two, huh,” Roy responded, a dart of unease stabbing through him. Two usually meant someone was in need of attention, just like his own early morning visit to the antiseptic halls with Chet.

Dixie studied DeSoto thoughtfully, hearing in those two words the underlying concern. “You and Johnny getting along pretty good?”

Roy flashed a quick smile before taking his mug over to the sink. He looked back over his shoulder at her as he ran water into it. “Yeah, we are. At least I think we are…”

He turned off the tap and slowly turned around, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands into his front pockets. He regarded Dixie with a serious expression for a moment before pushing off the counter and striding purposefully towards the exit. “He’s a good man, John Gage, and yes, we make a good team. I’m going to go check to see if that was him out there.”

Hand on the door, he paused and cocked his head at the nurse, who was shaking a cigarette out of the box and had a lighter at the ready in her other hand. “Dixie, how long have you and John known each other?”

“Oh, I don’t know, quite a while I suppose. Why do you ask?” She leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs and raising the now lit cigarette to her lips.

Roy stared at her a moment, struck silent by the vision before him. In the few months that he had known her, the image in his mind of Dixie McCall had been of a strong woman - highly professional and caring in her job, and sometimes wickedly funny in her comments. He had never once imagined her as he was seeing her now. He could easily imagine her in an evening gown, cigarette in hand, posed across the top of a piano in a fancy nightclub like some of those black and white movies from the forties. He briefly wondered if she could sing, and cleared his throat nervously as he tried to force his fluttering flight of imagination back to earth.

“Uh, no reason.”

Dixie exhaled a puff of smoke, and looked at him curiously, no doubt thinking he had lost his marbles. She dropped her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “Well now Roy, if you really want to know the answer to that question, I suggest you ask Johnny.”

Roy shuffled his feet and ducked his head in embarrassment. He decided that there was no way to save this awkward conversation and opted to make a hasty retreat. “See ya later, Dix.”

He shot out of the room, almost colliding with an orderly pushing an empty wheelchair. He apologized, skirted around the man, and quickly headed for the base station. He recognized the older, white garbed lady behind the desk as Nurse Jacobs, and hoped she could shed some light on the whereabouts of his delayed partner. Of course that depended on whether or not he could frame a coherent sentence or not. He had just acted like the biggest kind of fool in front of Dixie McCall, and hadn’t really even gotten an answer to his question. If anything, he was even more intrigued, especially after the teasing answer she had given. He had thought that John didn’t really know the head nurse; he had asked DeSoto quite a few questions about Dix and Dr. Brackett while on one of their brief breaks during paramedic classes. But then Miss McCall had thrown Gage a birthday party, why would she do that if she barely knew the man? Yes, he knew the gala was also a reason to gather all of the supporters of the Wedsworth Townsend Act, but still!

~eeeEEEeee~

Dixie enjoyed her cigarette for a few more minutes before setting it on the edge of the glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of her. She took a little longer to savor the coffee, glad for the silence in the room and barely noticing the blaring, overhead pages that tried to shatter the illusion of stillness within her little sanctuary. She stared at Roy’s forgotten turnout coat without really seeing it, her thoughts galloping.

She had to admit she was tired, just plain tired. Getting a phone call at four in the morning asking her to come in early wasn’t unusual, or usually annoying; it was part of her job after all. But this time it WAS bothering her, and if she wasn’t careful it was going to bleed over into her work. She’d worked a few days like this where it had been difficult to make it through the shift - usually after a traumatic case in the ER. This time, however, it hadn’t been a single occurrence that had dropped her into a fog of indifference. If she was really being honest with herself, it had been a whole month of little things piling up and snowballing into an avalanche of monumental proportions.

She supposed it had all started when she rode along with the paramedics and experienced firsthand their jobs. The adrenalin rush, the thrill of watching the rescues and even participating in a few had heightened her awareness of the physical side of their job. Never mind that the first and final rescue she had participated in with the 51 pair had almost been the last moment of her life. She could only blame herself for stepping over the line, jumping really, into a situation that she hadn’t been trained for. Lying in her room after Kel had finally delivered the promised pain remedy and she was finally feeling some relief from the pounding headache, she had realized that even with that stunt she had pulled, she had enjoyed those ride alongs.

She had been perfectly content with her career before that point in time; she was pleased with herself in having achieved her goal of head nurse in the Emergency department. She enjoyed the often frenzied pace and, most of the time, really appreciated the many different people that graced the halls. She couldn’t possibly be bored with her hard won position already, could she?

Dixie sighed and sipped her coffee. She wasn’t being delusional; she had no grand thoughts of joining the fire department and becoming a paramedic. Although if she was a few years younger, or if the program had begun ten years earlier…she allowed herself a wistful smile. Maybe it was just some kind of midlife crisis thing she was wallowing in. Instead of going out and buying a hot rod, she wanted to climb into teetering cars or shock patients on the sides of buildings while dangling from a rope. The smile turned into a giggle as she visualized it and she leaned forward to set down her mug, shaking her head in disbelief. Well, that was one path she wasn’t going to attempt; she would have to live it through the stories of their paramedics.

Thinking about those impossibly young men out there defying all odds to do their job sobered her. She had championed the paramedic program, fought hard for it in fact. She still wholeheartedly believed in it, but was beginning to think that these guys already had a lot on their plates. They were firemen, rescue men, and were now adding another highly responsible duty to their repertoire. Sure it weeded out the men who couldn’t juggle all those responsibilities and keep them aloft, but maybe it was asking a lot of these guys. Plus there was no added incentive to take the program and keep up with the certification; that might stop the men who weren’t serious about it but it would also keep out those who really were and couldn’t justify taking the extra time. These usually were the men with families, or the ones that had to work a second job to bring in extra income.

So what was the answer to that? In Dixie’s mind there was a simple solution that involved splitting off the paramedics into their own group. Equip the fire department with their own ambulances and have the paramedics respond separately to incidents, leaving the rescue men to handle the physical aspects of the calls – that had been her first and right now, her only solution. Of course the added advantage to that would be opening up the field to women; Dixie allowed herself a quick satisfied, cat that licked the cream, smile. Well, it made sense, didn’t it? Why would the fire department have their highly trained rescue men also be medics? What happened if the pair was involved in a rescue within a burning building and a victim outside had a heart attack? Was the captain expected to take vitals and make the decision to start chest compressions and rescue breathing? Were they even trained to do that?

Unable to answer her own questions, she picked up the cigarette and squashed it out. Picking up her coffee mug, she finished it off. She held it for a moment in both hands, staring into the tiny swirl of liquid left, wondering what to do about her growing unhappiness with her job. Maybe it was a simple matter of taking a vacation and enjoying a distracting change of scenery, or pulling her work addicted friend away for a long weekend if they could get their schedules to match up.

Thinking about Kelly Brackett brought another upward tilt to her lips. She had banished him to his office for a nap after putting up with his grumpiness for an hour longer then she should have; he had snapped at one of her new nurses and she in turn had treated him to an icy silence until they had finished with the patient. As soon as they were alone in the treatment room, Kelly had thrown up his hands in surrender and stopped her angry words with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry Dix, I know that was out of line. I’ll apologize to her in a minute…” he paused as she laid a hand on his arm and looked at him in concern.

“I think you’re running on steam, Dr. Brackett. How long have you been on?”

He had run a tired hand over his face, slumping in weariness against the exam table. “Too long I suppose, although it didn’t really get busy until after midnight. My head is telling me I’ve had enough…rotten headache…”

“Then you have a choice, either go home or take a long break in your office. And Kel, I mean a long nap, not sitting behind your desk catching up on paperwork.”

“A long nap it is then, since I have an appointment later this morning,” he had finally conceded with obvious reluctance. After obtaining a promise from her to wake him up by ten, he had followed her out of the room and down the hall to his office. She had made sure he had removed his lab coat and shoes, loosened his tie, and was comfortably laid out on the couch before she had exited the room. She had firmly locked the knob and closed the door behind her. She had checked on him once, quietly unlocking the door with the key on her ring and poking her head in. He had been in deep slumber, still on his back and snoring lightly.

Dixie sighed, the soft sound a concoction of contentment, longing, and restlessness. She hauled herself to her feet, wondering if Roy had found his partner or if Johnny was still AWOL. She washed the mugs abandoned in the sink, biting her lip as she considered the two paramedics and Roy’s comments from earlier. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but those two mismatched young men were her favorites. She could put up with just about anything from them, especially high strung and intense Johnny Gage, as long as they continued to do their job the way they were doing it.

That being said, she knew something had transpired between Kelly and Roy in the wee hours of the morning. She hadn’t got the details yet, but it was only a matter of time. She was also quite aware of the escalating tension and distrust between the doctor and the younger medic of the pair. It was a very fine line she needed to walk between all of the paramedics assigned to their hospital and her, well, boyfriend; an invisible mark that she was very tired of treading softly on. Another reason, perhaps, that she was disillusioned with her environment and the people within it.

“I guess that’s it in a nutshell,” she whispered softly to the empty room, drying the mugs with sure movements. “Trying to be a referee between Kel who should be completely on board with the excellent job the guys are doing, and those fire boys who in their own way are arrogant and just a bit too big for their britches...add that to my sudden urge for excitement and you have a dame who is just not satisfied with anything!”

Tossing the towel over the mugs in an irritated gesture, Dixie glided to the door in her rubber soled shoes, scooping up the turnout coat on her way. She hesitated at the threshold, debating with herself over her declaration. She hadn’t missed the odd look DeSoto had thrown her before he had shot clumsily out the door. Years of experience with patients and she had known exactly what that questioning and puzzled look had implied.

If he only knew how much truth there was in it ……she had collapsed in her bed at two in the morning after a satisfying evening spent at a club rekindling her first love; not a very well planned move considering that she was scheduled to be at work four hours later. So of course she was exhausted after only getting two hours of sleep instead of the anticipated four hours! She had tasted a bit of her past, and had enjoyed it immensely. So add that to her growing list of changes in her life, and who knows, maybe it would satisfy her craving for excitement and difference. Right now, though, she had a job to get back to, a job that she really did love. Plus there was a new friend that needed assurance that his partner was doing ok and hopefully lurking somewhere in the depths of the hospital. That she could take care of, with confidence and her usual effectiveness, no matter how tired she felt.

~eeeEEEeee~

“No, sorry Roy, I haven’t seen Johnny or any other firefighter for that matter,” Nurse Jacobs replied in some distraction, looking up from the pile of forms stacked in front of her to give Roy a tiny smile. She immediately dropped her attention back to the papers, a frown creasing her forehead as she flipped through them. “I don’t see any supply forms signed by him….”

“No, I did that. Miss McCall thought that she saw Johnny and one of our other men together, so maybe one of them needed to be checked out?”

The nurse flung out her hands, indicating the frantic activity around them. “At this moment, I am truly not sure where anyone is. Check at the admitting desk; she may have paperwork or know if they have been through.”

Roy thanked her and stepped backwards, trying to dodge the many people flowing both ways down the hallway. He flattened himself against the green hued wall for a moment, thankful that it hadn’t been that busy earlier. He decided to find a phone out of the line of traffic and update JoAnne. He couldn’t very well poke his head into every treatment rooms to make sure Gage and one of the guys wasn’t occupying one of them. He would check on his partner’s status via HT after talking to his wife; that appeared to be the logical course of action for the moment since even from here he could see that the admitting desk had a large group of civilians clustered about it.

He headed for the pay phone located by Brackett’s office and wondered whether the outspoken doctor was still on duty. He hadn’t seen him gracing the frenzied corridors this trip, but that didn’t mean much. He could have walked right by him and not even noticed, with all the white clothing clad employees that were dashing about - nurses, the orderlies, and of course the interns and physicians. He was kinda hoping that he would see the big man, as John had sarcastically called him, lurking about the Emergency Room. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was actually looking forward to another confrontation with Kelly Brackett. So maybe his volcanic temper wasn't completely extinguished yet by several years of marriage to a very level headed, understanding woman (most of the time, anyways), but at least he had good control over it. Although, he should probably figure out what was transpiring between his partner and Brackett before he jumped to Johnny's defense again. And more importantly, get a handle on whether or not Johnny would want him to.....

He felt his blood pressure settle down as he realized he already knew the answer to that question. Recalling John's earlier spoken words about "buttinskis", he was pretty sure that would apply to someone trying to fight his battles for him. Sighing a little in disappointment, DeSoto decided he needed another direction in which to shoot his sometimes fierce emotions, now that the fight for the paramedic program was over.

Pushing all the random thoughts away, he looked towards Brackett's office. Luckily the pay phone was vacant and Desoto found a dime in his pocket and fed it into the slot. He started to turn his back on the waiting room to gain some privacy; realizing he wouldn’t be able to see John or anyone else he rotated back around and covered his free ear with his hand to block out some of the noise.

JoAnne answered on the third ring, and Roy quickly squashed down the panic that colored her voice when he unthinkingly started his first sentence with, “Hi Jo, I’m at the hospital.”

After apologizing, he explained his delay and asked about any plans or appointments that he needed to be aware of for his days off. Next he brought up the idea of a barbecue on his next weekend off; Jo responded eagerly to this suggestion and immediately started offering suggestions for food, beverages, and games for both adults and children. Roy laughed, settling a shoulder into the wall as he relaxed, and gave her the go ahead to plan the whole thing. They talked, most of the conversation monopolized by his excited wife, until the operator broke in with a request for another coin. He reluctantly broke off the call and swung the HT from his hand as he observed the overflowing waiting room.

There were people everywhere; the uncomfortable chairs were fully occupied and the walls were decorated with the citizens of Los Angeles in various positions – standing, slouching, or sitting. Amazingly, most of the crowd seemed patient or resigned to the lengthy waiting times; the only exception seemed to be several agitated folks clustered at the admitting desk who were drawing attention to themselves with their raised voices. The nurse handling the desk seemed to have it all under control, however; less than a minute elapsed before the loud racket diminished and the future patients exited the desk and disappeared back into the waiting pool of humanity.

Impressed with the admitting nurse’s handling of the situation, DeSoto turned his head just in time to see her boss heading towards him with his turnout coat trailing from her hand. He took the damp garment from her with an apology, and added a quick word of praise for the unflappable lady manning the workstation.

“Yes, she’s quite a gem, even in the worst possible situations,” Dixie replied, fishing in her pocket and pulling out a key ring. She inserted the key into the lock on Dr. Brackett’s office door and hesitated. “Maybe I should introduce Nancy to Johnny……..speaking of him, have you located your partner in crime yet?”

“No, I’m going to check in with Captain Hammer right now,” Roy answered, pulling nervously on the antenna and wondering if he had missed pertinent radio chatter, with his complacent attitude and straying attention.

Dixie opened the door and held up a cautioning finger. “Give me just a minute, Roy, and I’ll check to see if he’s here before you make that call.”

He nodded in understanding and stepped back, eyes straying over the room once again. He moved further away so that he could see down the hallway but also to give Dix some privacy in whatever she was doing in Dr. Brackett’s office. Whatever it was didn’t take long as she popped back out only a moment later, closing the door gently behind her and breezing right by him, clearly expecting him to follow. He did.

~eeeEEEeee~

“Good grief,” Chet Kelly complained, barely escaping an empty gurney flying by them as he tried to maneuver the stumbling Gage around the obstacles. “Where are we supposed to go?”

“Men’s room,” the still dripping paramedic replied, turning down a quieter hallway and pointing towards the universal sign mounted on the wall towards the end of the dead end corridor.

“What for?” Kelly griped, wishing that he had left his heavy coat in the squad. “Aren’t you wet enough already?”

Johnny didn’t bother to reply; he simply made a face of disgust and trudged unerringly towards his target, licking his lips and hoping he would make it in time.

“Oh….yeah, I get it, well, look, let me take your coat and I’ll find someone while you clean up, ok?”

He helped Gage unfasten and then pull off his coat. The other man gave him a weak smile of thanks then bolted off, shouldering the door open and disappearing within. Chet hesitated, and then headed back towards the main hallway, stopping to shrug off his own odor emitting garment. He wrinkled up his nose at the wet, smoky smell, shrugged, and followed the wet footprints with a turnout dangling over each arm. Spying a white garbed man coming off the elevator, clipboard in hand and stethoscope dangling from his neck, he veered off course.

“Hey, Doc!”

~TBC~

_A/N – sorry about the delay on this story; Dixie took over the chapter and was refusing to let it go! Thank you for your support and feedback!_

 

  



	13. Chapter 13

_*Readers who have watched the “E” episodes multiple times will definitely recognize the doctor who appears in this chapter, or at least his name!_

The water he was splashing over his face felt good even though the rest of him was saturated with it. He was beginning to hate water rescues with a passion, especially ones that involved being in the water instead of on it. Or perhaps it was more the fact that it hadn’t been a rescue at all, merely an exercise in futility. He hadn’t missed Chet’s stealthy movements to turn down the radio; he wondered briefly if they had found the occupant of that car. Of course, the last time he had felt this way, he had joined the paramedic program. Now what was he going to do, join up with Coast Guard or the Navy, or maybe even the Marines? Nah, been there, done that…..

Shrugging his shoulders in a defeated gesture, he used his finger as a makeshift toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth trying to eradicate the awful taste that throwing up filthy canal water had left. Johnny sighed, and using his cupped hands filled his mouth with the clear liquid, swished and spat. Bracing his arms against the top of the sink, he forced himself to look in the mirror.

“Gack,” he muttered in dismay. That had been a mistake, almost enough to heave up his stomach lining since there was nothing else left to spew up. Under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom his colorful bruises were shockingly vivid against the pasty white of his skin; his eyes were demon like since they were so blood shot. And to top it all off, his newly shorn hair was standing up all over his pounding skull and had unidentified stuff interlaced throughout it. He gingerly ran a hand through the tangled mess and watched little pieces of twigs, leaves, mud, and who knew what else tumble into the sink. “Start a garden with that……”

He ran both hands through his short locks several more times and turned on the water again to wash the debris down into the sewers of Los Angeles. A fitting end to it – he just hoped it didn’t clog up the drain on its journey. Now if only he could wash the rest of his misery away so easily. He was pretty sure that if he hadn’t dunked half of his body in the drink, he could have gone home and simply slept away his soreness and the remnants of the flu. But now his stomach was rebelling violently, his head was beating a rhythm that would make a drum major proud, and his body ached so bad he had some doubts as to whether or not he was going to be able to sit upright in the squad for the ride back to the station. Definitely would make it kinda hard to drive home, lying flat on his back across the seat.

John grimaced as a grin escaped his tightly drawn facial muscles at the vivid image and the discomfort slid right to his cramping stomach. He leaned back over the sink, holding an arm tight against his belly to hopefully forestall any more close contact with the porcelain. Taking slow, deep breaths alleviated some of the discomfort and he was able to loosen his binding grip. Just in time, too, as the door swung open and someone barreled through; Johnny skewed his eyes sideways, not quite willing to turn his head that far and take the chance of it falling off his shoulders.

Chet Kelly came to a stop beside him and reached out a tentative hand to lightly touch him on a hunched up shoulder. “Hey Gage, I found a doctor and he’s getting a room set up for ya so we can get in and out; ya know, maybe get to the station in time to taste that casserole of Marco’s?”

He withdrew the hand and stepped back to give the paramedic a moment to straighten up and turn, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the food. After all, the guy had probably lost every ounce of liquid left in his body by the side of the driveway back there. Judging by the expression on his face only minutes earlier in the hallway, he had most likely dug down a little further and dry heaved his toenails up. He was relieved when Gage turned slowly and gave him a tiny smile.

“That’s good, Kelly, thanks.”

“Hey, no problem man! I’m getting the hang of this, second time today I’ve hunted down a doctor. You can’t believe how fast they change their minds when they find out you’re on county time, and overtime at that,” Chet explained, holding the door open and patiently waiting for Johnny to precede him. “After all, this is a county hospital, right? So technically we’re all fellow employees working for the same man, John Q Public, or whatever they call him.”

He directed Johnny towards the treatment room the obliging doctor had commandeered, smiling a little at both his success and his timing at catching the doctor just as he had arrived downstairs to help out. They had almost reached their target when a friendly shout halted them; Johnny leaned into the wall with a shoulder for support and watched as a dark haired man approached, waving an arm in greeting. His other arm hung limply at his side; a cast encased most of his hand and ran up to the middle of his forearm.

Chet raised an enquiring, thick eyebrow as a fast paced, friendly sounding dialogue ensued. The majority of the words were emitting from the stranger with Gage adding low, scratchy voiced comments in between pauses. Whatever jargon they were speaking, Kelly did not understand a word of it; he couldn’t even figure out what language it was. As he studied the fellow with open curiosity, though, he was pretty sure he could hazard an educated guess. It wasn’t the clothes he was wearing, the worn jeans, the blue denim shirt tucked in, and the scuffed work boots that were throwing off obvious clues. It was the man’s bronzed skin and the jet black hair that hung to his shoulders, as well as the thin band of silver with a hint of turquois in it that encircled his good wrist. The guy appeared to be a few years older than John, was several inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier, and carried himself with an easy confidence and an almost cocky assurance that reminded Chet of…..

His mouth dropped open as his brain jumped to a conclusion. This guy was an older version of Gage, which meant that they were brothers, which meant that Gage was an Indian, which meant that… holy mackerel! He had better rethink the whole station prank thing. If John really was an Indian, he was liable to seek revenge by tracking him through the firehouse and scalping him while he was sound asleep! He had just watched that in a movie the other night, and it sure didn’t look like a pleasant way to leave this earth. But then again, the paramedic didn’t really look like he had a lot of native blood in him. In fact, eyeballing the grey white skin of the kid right now, Chet figured that he, Irish Kelly, looked more like an original inhabitant of America than Gage. Of course there was Gage’s name too; both John and Gage were pretty generic sounding, nothing special like Sitting Bull, or Geronimo. Now the name Geronimo, that sure was a fierce sounding handle…….

“Chet?”

He snapped his gaping hole closed and realized both men were staring at him; had he just spoken his thoughts out loud? He hazarded a cheeky grin and placed his hands on his hips ready to snap out a witty explanation but realized his acting was for naught. Johnny had already turned his attention back to the older man and was eyeing him warily; the friendly and welcoming demeanor he had displayed only moments earlier had curiously disappeared.

The man didn’t seem to notice the change and clasped his good hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Take care, little brother.”

Johnny simply nodded and watched as he released his grip and turned towards Chet, flashing him a smile before striding off. This time Kelly caught the slight limp and wondered if that was an old injury or one tied in with the shiny new cast enveloping his wrist and arm.

“Hey, John?”

The paramedic didn’t bother hiding the weary sigh that escaped him. He turned and planted his back against the wall, letting the plaster absorb his weight, and crossed his arms across his chest. “What is it, Chet?”

“Is that your brother?” Chet queried, stepping quickly forward as it seemed that John was starting a slow slide downwards. The question seemed to revitalize him however; he straightened up and for a moment his eyes brightened and a smile flashed.

“No, no, not related in any way, just served with him…..”

The brief energy burst dissipated as rapidly as it had appeared; Johnny leaned his head back and closed his eyes, effectively shuttering the emotions that seemed about to burst from him. He cut off the beginnings of the fireman’s next question with a dismissive wave. “Not now, Kelly…just something I wish I’d never done. Too young to know better, mebbe…”

This time Chet purposely stepped up to the wobbly legged paramedic and grabbed him by the arm, on the side with the fewer bruises. He bit back the questions threatening to spill from him, the foremost ones being “were you in the army” and “what did you do that you regret” as well as the one that was really tickling his curiosity, “are you really an Indian?” Although since that guy wasn’t his brother, that question had already been answered, hadn’t it? But that language they had been talking in…..

Ignoring the halfhearted attempt John made to pull away, Chet pulled the younger man towards the treatment room. While he would throw him into a fireman’s carry without a seconds thought, he would much rather drag the damp medic into the room on his own two feet. Plus there was the fact that Gage was liable to leave a trail of nasty liquid down his back if he tossed him upside down. He wasn’t about to chance that, especially without the protection of his supposedly waterproof coat. He bumped open the door with his shoulder and smiled at the doctor, who was scrubbing his hands vigorously at a double basin.

“Dr. Estrada, this John Gage, one of our paramedics,” he introduced, waving a hand between the two men of medicine. Jos Estrada shook his hands out over the water and twisted to grab a paper towel out of the dispenser before turning back to nod at both firemen.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gage. I’ve heard of the paramedic program of course, but didn’t have the opportunity to be in on those first training classes. Hopefully down the road I will have that chance…..now what’s the problem? Mr. Kelly said that you ended up head first in the canal and swallowed quite a bit of water.” He patted the exam table, encouraging the younger man to sit on it. “I sent the nurse for some warm blankets.”

“Oh, he stopped shivering Doc,” Chet supplied helpfully, coming over to stand by the table as John awkwardly hoisted himself onto it.

“That can mean two things, Fireman Kelly. Either Mr. Gage has indeed warmed up due to your solicitous efforts,” he paused as he grabbed the silent patient’s hand and felt the skin, and then moved his fingers up to his wrist to check his pulse. “Or he is moving through the stages of hypothermia; his body has tried shivering to raise the core temperature, failed, and so is beginning the process of diverting blood flow to the vital organs to protect them. Has he been disoriented?”

Chet gulped audibly and stepped forward to touch the bare skin of Johnny’s arm, alarmed and curious at the same time. “No, not at all. Geesh, sorry, I didn’t know that.”

“Most people don’t, sir, especially in Los Angeles. Mr. Gage, let’s start by getting those wet clothes off and getting you wrapped up in the blankets; nurse, please get a temperature and let’s get a blood draw…..”

The lineman moved out of the way and stood by the wall as the activity seemed to increase around Johnny. He fisted his hands at his waist and turned his head, not wanting to watch as clothes were removed. When the wet uniform was tossed up over the privacy screen, he turned back in time to see his crewmate reluctantly extend a bare arm out of the cocoon of warmed blankets he was swaddled in. A thermometer was clasped between Gage’s lips; he was reclining against the half raised bed and seemed almost amused at the attention he was receiving from the young nurse. To Chet’s eyes, the nurse appeared either extremely nervous or flustered by the half lidded gaze she was getting from John.

Kelly quirked his eyebrows upwards, forced all his previously unanswered questions to the back of his mind, and considered the opportunities Gage now had for getting dates. Here there was a whole school of fish to choose out of, from the candy striped minnows to the old trouts swimming valiantly upstream hoping to snag a doctor. Or were those salmon? He was sure that even though some of them wouldn’t look twice at a lowly paramedic who would probably rank low on their food chain there still had to be an an ocean of possibilities to fish from.

“Smarter then he looks, ol’ Gage. There’s gotta be a hundred nurses working in this hospital, and at least half of them must be single and under the age of thirty….ok, so subtract about twenty more for being unavailable or over the age of, say, twenty three maybe? Or would he date older women? How old is he anyways? So that still leaves at least a pool of thirty chicks to choose from…..”

He abruptly stopped his mental math when his mindless, wandering gaze sharpened and focused in on a sudden movement in front of him. Dr. Estrada has his back to them, busy with something at the counter, so it hadn’t been him. It was the unexpected backward step of the pretty nurse that had startled him, the needle in her hand that still looked suspiciously empty, and a frustrated, scared look on her face.

Chet’s brain made the sudden, brilliant leap to what was about to happen; he jumped forward and caught Johnny as he tilted sideways. The young women regained her composure and helped him right and settle back the unconscious paramedic. Chet, his arms full of blanket and a limp Gage, glanced up to see the doctor pull the stethoscope ends out of his ear and release the pressure on the BP cuff. He tucked John’s right arm back under the blankets and held out his hand to the nurse.

“How many times did you attempt to draw blood out of Mr. Gage’s arm, Miss Levor?”

Kelly wondered if Dr. Jos Estrada practiced that intimidating stance in the mirror before he left for work in the morning. Because it was working pretty well with the nurse, whose hand was shaking slightly as she handed over the syringe and the empty tubes.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Doctor. It was eight sticks, I can’t seem to…”

“That’s because Mr. Gage is severely dehydrated. Please limit your attempts to two in the future, and ask for assistance or clarification after that.” The doctor pushed up his thick, black rimmed glasses with a knuckle and moved down to the end of the bed, fishing under the warm wraps and removing Johnny’s bare foot.

The lineman made a little noise and hastily turned his head away from the vein puncture that was about to happen. He didn’t know if the blood was coming out of Gage’s foot or his ankle and really didn’t care if he ever gained that particular knowledge. Being in the dark about some medical procedures was a good thing, especially right now.

He looked down at the damage the inexperienced nurse had done to the paramedic’s arm; he made a face and averted his gaze from the skin she was gently swabbing at with a cotton ball. Another thing to add to his list…. Now he was staring at John’s face from which slitted eyes were staring right back at him. Realizing he was still holding the now awake man, Chet quickly extracted himself and grinned sheepishly.

“Whoops!” He uttered, slightly embarrassed but even more worried about the confusion on Johnny’s face.

“Did I just…” After speaking his first words since he had entered the room, Johnny closed his eyes and seemed to be joining Chet in the embarrassment room. He startled, visibly jumped in his reclined position, and his eyes flew open; Chet refused to turn his head and look again in the direction of the very quick and efficient vampire sucking out Gage’s blood. Apparently a very successful blood sucker, as they all heard the glass vials being set on the counter.

“Yeah man, keeled right over, we would have had to scrape you up off the floor if Nurse Levor and I hadn’t swooped in and saved ya. “ He winked at the nurse who looked to be on the verge of tears. She gave him the crinkle of a tiny smile and pulled the blanket up and around the medic’s arm. Was she trying to cover up the marks before Johnny saw them and passed out again, or was she just trying to keep him warm? Chet couldn’t decide and guessed it didn’t really matter.

“Nurse, run these to the lab and I’ll call in the orders. Oh, and see if Mrs. Jacobs is available to assist me further.” Dr. Estrada stepped up beside the pair and handed her the tubes. She accepted them meekly, her eyes downcast.

“Yes Doctor.” She hastened out of the treatment room, shooting a frightened glance backwards before the door completely closed.

Chet worried his bottom lip between his teeth, now wondering how much trouble she was going to be in. Surely just a reprimand? He skewed his eyes sideways in a covert peek, noting that the swarthy physician was even shorter then himself; how in the world did he pull off that formidable appearance?

He shifted out of the way as Dr. Estrada moved closer and did the thing with his glasses again, regarding Johnny through the thick lenses. “How do you feel?”

The answer was succinct and what Kelly was beginning to think of as Gage’s defense mechanism to cover conversation that annoyed him. “Cold and wet.”

“Cold and wet….” The doctor repeated back in a thoughtful voice, reaching up and placing a finger on the paramedic’s neck. “You appear to be a man of few words.”

_“Carrot, carted, no, no, that’s not right_ ,” Chet thought, trying to recall the word for where the man’s finger was positioned. He’d only heard it once or twice, but felt pleased that he knew what the doc was doing even if he couldn’t remember the word. He heard the door swish open behind him and reluctantly broke off his musings.

“Doctor Estrada, I didn’t know you were the physician coming down to fill in for a bit,” the older nurse said, surprise evident on her face and in her voice. She glanced at the patient and did a beautiful double take, reaching out a hand and lightly touching Johnny on the shoulder. “And here’s another pleasant surprise. Johnny, Roy has been patrolling the halls waiting for you…”

A little groan escaped Gage but Chet couldn’t decipher the reason behind it. Dismay, unhappiness, pain, what was it? Geesh, he wasn’t doing a very good job of figuring anything out; this lack of mental clarity appeared to have started the moment he stepped into the hospital. He had to admit, though, there had not been a dull moment yet. He must have a made his own little noise, because Nurse Jacobs turned and looked at him as if noticing the blue uniform for the first time.

“Mr. ah, Kelly,” she began, tilting her head a bit to read his crooked nametag. “Would you mind catching up to Roy? He’s by the supply counter with Dixie.”

“Sure,” he replied amicably. “Be right back, Gage.”

Not waiting for an answer, he scooted out the door. He strolled purposefully down the short corridor, turned, and headed towards what he guessed was the supply counter/base station. It must have been, for both Roy and Dixie were huddled at the counter, looking down at something. At Chet’s hail, both heads turned towards him; Roy leaned outwards and bent his neck awkwardly in several different angles in what Chet guessed was a futile attempt to locate his new partner.

He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Gage is back there in the treatment room with Dr. Estrada. He says he’s ok, just cold and wet, but he did pass out and he stopped shivering, so……”

An understanding look passed between the head nurse and Roy before both veered around the still forward moving lineman and disappeared down the hall. Kelly shook his head and turned around.

“Give a guy a chance to finish his story, would ya?” He grumbled good- naturedly, smiling cheekily at two candy stripers. The young ladies scowled in displeasure and detoured around him, putting plenty of room between them and the wolfishly grinning, talking to himself man.

~eeeEEEeee~

Roy paused before opening the door to the room Johnny was supposedly in; Dixie had no such qualms and brushed right by him, her face somber and worried. He followed, turnout still draped over his arm and his own concern ratcheting upwards as he took in the dimmed lighting and noted the still figure on the bed. Nurse Jacobs met their shared apprehension with a smile and a finger to the lips; she made a shooing motion towards the medic and he obliged, walking backwards to the door. She followed him out.

“He’s fine, Roy, just dropped off to sleep a moment ago. He’s exhausted, severely dehydrated, bruised, and has a viral infection, commonly known as the flu.”

“The flu,” Roy finished the sentence with her, reassured but still puzzled. “But what about the fainting, and the hypothermia he experienced?”

“His temperature was only a degree under normal and it is back up now. The fainting was his body’s reaction to the rather gung ho attempts by the inexperienced nurse to take blood….” She smiled again as Roy sank back against the wall and let out an audible sigh of relief.

“He was coughing earlier, what about his lungs?”

“Congested, and he swallowed a lot of water, but he managed to expel most of that. Dr. Estrada is pumping him full of fluid via IV; as soon as he’s finished with that and we check his vitals again, he’ll be free to go.” She moved to stand beside DeSoto and peered at him. “Are you ok?”

Roy rubbed a hand across his jaw, not quite sure how to respond to the question. Here he was, a grown man who had seen and experienced the horrors of society and what they could do; he was pretty sure he had responded bravely and stoically to all the situations he had been involved in. And now he was standing in a hospital corridor, drowning in a vat of emotions simply because he had been told that his new partner, a man he barely even knew, was going to be just fine. He was embarrassed and confused, to put it mildly….

“I’m fine, Sylvia. Just glad he’s all right.” Roy focused his gaze on the activity in the halls, which seemed to have slowed down considerably in the last ten minutes. He waved a hand. “Seems to have thinned out a bit…”

Nurse Jacobs wasn’t fooled by his stalling tactics. “Johnny kinda grows on you, doesn’t he?”

She shot Chet a fierce look as he sidled up to them, heard her last comment, and added his own thought to the conversation. “Yeah, like fungus.”

Roy snickered, however, and the mother of three immediately changed her opinion of what she had thought was a rather rude comment. Just as she had recognized the paramedic’s feeble attempt to divert her attention, she also caught on to C. Kelly’s more effective tactics. “Yes, Mr. Kelly, just like a fungus, albeit a very good one. Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have some catching up to do on both patients and the bane of my existence, paperwork!”

She bustled off in the direction of the supply desk and the two men stared after her. Chet half turned to face Roy and then copied his stance by folding his arms and planting his back against the wall. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Yep, sure is.”

“Isn’t Dixie McCall in charge, though? Doesn’t she do the paperwork?”

“Probably most of it, but I think Mrs. Jacobs takes the rest, kinda like a second in command.”

There was several seconds of silence as Kelly considered this, then nodded his understanding. “Right. So how’s our drowned rat doing, anyways?”

DeSoto filled him in on his partner’s condition; after that they discussed the logistics of getting some dry clothes and Gage’s vehicle to the hospital. Chet, remembering the bruises and the stiff legged walk he had observed, hesitatingly suggested that perhaps they should give him a ride home. Roy immediately agreed, feeling a sharp pang that he hadn’t realized that, and they reformulated the plan.

“I’ll go call the station and let Captain Hammer know what’s going on. He’s probably still there, doing exactly what Nurse Jacobs didn’t want to do! Here Roy, give me your coat. Grab my coat and John’s from the corner in there when you go in to talk to Ms. McCall, ok?”

“Right, no problem.” Roy handed off his turnout and entered the room quietly. The doctor and the head nurse were carrying on a low voiced conversation by the foot of Gage’s bed; they broke off their exchange of words when they saw his entrance. The dark haired doctor left, while Dixie waited for DeSoto to pick up the coats and cast a last brooding glance at the prone patient.

“It’s really turning out to be one of those days, isn’t it?” Dixie observed in a flat voice once they were in the safety of the noisier hallway. Roy studied her for a moment, surprised at the dullness in her tone.

“You look like you need the same thing prescribed for Johnny – lots of rest and fluids,” he suggested kindly, hoping she wouldn’t take the well-meant comment the wrong way. She arched a brow but seemed to take the words as intended.

“I’m all right, just showing evidence of my own stupidity.” She shrugged her shoulders in a weary gesture in response to his curious head tilt. “It would take far too long to explain….now, tell me how you’re going to spring our worse for wear friend out of this gin joint…..”

~TBC~

_A/N – regarding the eight attempted blood draws and the ninth successful one out of the foot – happened to me due to severe dehydration and the inept technician, and yes, I retaliated by passing out for about thirty seconds….not one of my best moments, buy hey, it happens!_


	14. Chapter 14

**__ **

In the dimmed ambiance of the now quiet room behind Dixie and Roy, the man reclining on the exam table slowly removed his forearm from its comforting and familiar place over his face and cracked his eyes open. He studied the IV feeding liquid into his other arm for a moment before shifting his gaze sideways and upwards to the glass bottle; it swayed a bit on the stand as he moved his arm to the edge of the white sheet and stretched the clear tubing. Lost in a jumble of thoughts that even he couldn’t decipher, Johnny rolled his head back and stared unblinkingly at the ceiling tiles.

The unexpected appearance of Freddy Begay had surprised and rattled him, in both a pleasant and an unwelcome way. It had brought back memories and jumbled feelings that he had successfully kept bottled up for a long time. Memories that right now were weighing heavily on his mind and that had no business invading and plaguing his foggy thoughts. He had been so young and hopeful in those days; would he have made the same decisions and followed that same path today, knowing what had laid ahead?

Probably so, because there were times he really didn’t learn from his mistakes, or thought he could plow forward and change things. He supposed he really did live up to one of those character traits that he had been called by friends, teachers, and even his parents. Stubborn, yeah, he would admit to that one easy enough. He supposed in some circumstances that it would come in handy; Freddy had often called him that as they tramped endlessly through the jungle terrain and his tone had been affectionate and not in the least bit sarcastic or annoyed. Then again, old Fred had an endless amount of patience and had effectively tamped down or redirected some of his impetuous actions.

Thinking back on it now, Johnny realized that the only slightly older man had tutored and guided him quite subtly. He had put up with his smart ass comments, held him back when needed, and turned him loose without a word when he thought the still wet behind the ears Gage needed to learn from his own mistakes. He had probably, without even realizing it, learned more from Begay in those two long years then he had in all the time he had spent at school.

Perhaps it had been the steady and guiding influence of Fred Begay that had drawn him, like a moth to a flame, to the seemingly, equally calm demeanor of his new partner. Roy and Freddy appeared on the surface to be cut from the same cloth. He could only wonder if the reality would be different.

He sighed and let his eyes close, tipping his head first one way and then the other, trying to clear his ears of the water. Probably an ear infection, swimmer’s ear, or something equally annoying was approaching, and if he was lucky he would get it in both ears. Another reason to detest water rescues, but at least it had been in the canal and not the ocean. Something about that endless expanse of shifting liquid always seemed to bother him, both mentally and physically. The physical side was just plain stupid seasickness if he was on a small vessel in choppy water, but the emotional side was another thing altogether. It was strangely elusive, that thing that he felt when he was out there, an odd snaking that slithered down his spine and made him question the existence of life itself. Thankfully he never had much time to dwell on it, and when he had both feet planted back on firm ground it never really seemed to matter.

He turned his head back towards the door, wondering where his partner and Kelly had disappeared to. He had overheard most of the conversation between Dixie and the doctor; as a kid he had been quite adept at feigning sleep when he wanted to eavesdrop on the conversations between adults. Covering his eyes with his arm had at first been a move to block out unwanted light, but it had also led to the discovery that people thought he was zonked out when he did it. Maybe it was a sneaky habit, but it had carried quite nicely into adulthood. His reasoning was that if they were talking about him, he wanted in on the conversation. If people didn’t want him to hear, they shouldn’t be whispering about things he shouldn’t know within earshot. Not that he had heard anything that interesting anyways; just an exchange of information about his treatment and his release.

The few words that Chet had uttered, however, HAD been informative. He had a feeling that under the clownish veneer and the often nonstop yakking, he had seen and heard Kelly sporting on more than one occasion, was a guy who could be sensitive and caring. He was pretty sure the stocky fireman had been trying to cover up or downplay the actions of that cute but inept nurse; he may have been a bit out of it but there was no way he hadn’t noticed the sharp bite of the needle that had gotten worse after each failed attempt. And judging by the way Kelly had acted outside and even in here, it had also appeared that Chet was concerned about his health. Kinda strange behavior for a guy he had only worked with for a handful of shifts, but then again, hadn’t DeSoto been doing the same thing? Hovering over him, trying to take his pulse for cripes sake, and basically treating him like a kid brother.

He hadn’t been sure, at the time, whether his new partner was just trying out his new paramedic skills or was actually worried. Then again, maybe that was just the kind of guy Roy was, conscientious and always thinking about others. He of course had ultimately responded to it by some teasing comments about old dogs and some other things, which, thinking back on it was a pretty lame way of trying to figure out what DeSoto had been up to. And now that left him lying here thinking about it again, only he had to add Kelly’s equally odd reactions to the whole puzzling mess.

Johnny allowed himself a wry smile at his flawed reasoning concerning his eavesdropping, and his speculations concerning Chet and Roy. He sat up all the way so that he could lean over further, twist a bit, and see through the small window in the door. Nothing met his searching eyes but the ugly color of the wall in the hallway. He knew he was going to be released as soon as IV bottle drained dry and they checked all his vitals again. He did feel a bit better, now that he had lost most of the chill and was almost dry. The headache had subsided to a low throb, his stomach was on an even keel, and he had lost some of the tightness in his chest. They’d probably slapped some antibiotics into him at some point and he was sure they would throw a bottle at him as he left; that would hopefully prevent any kind of respiratory problem from growing worse and ward off the harmful effects from that foul water he had inadvertently guzzled.

He glanced back up at the IV bottle to see how much was left and considered turning up the flow to speed the process along a bit faster. If Dixie was his nurse, he thought he knew her well enough to be able to get away with it. But Nurse Jacobs and the young one that couldn’t find a vein, well, they might just tie him down, hook him up to another bottle, and purposely delay his departure. Jacobs didn’t put up with any nonsense, and the other one would probably jump at the chance to exact revenge on his dehydrated veins.

Johnny leaned back into the military tightness of the sheet and admitted defeat, but the tiny smile still on his lips grew even bigger as he thought about Dixie. Now there was a lady you didn’t want to tangle with! He had been on the receiving end of her fierce temper at least once, and that had been for a minor infraction. He hated to think what she would do if he really ticked her off. He could really believe that she had been a nurse in the Korean War; he was sure that even the generals had tread very lightly around her. But on the flip side, he also knew that she was kind, wickedly funny, and was an excellent nurse. He enjoyed sharing a cup of coffee with her, and even a beer once in a while when their days off coincided. Which reminded him of what she had been planning to do last night…he really needed to find her and ask her how the evening had played out.

He sat fully upright and felt the blankets slide off his shoulders; he shivered instantly as the cool air of the room enveloped his uncovered skin. He tentatively lifted the edges of the blanket and realized they had neglected to give him a gown. He remembered the nurse flinging his uniform up over the privacy screen, but it was no longer in sight and he couldn’t remember where it had disappeared to or why he was effectively trapped here in only his underwear. Well, at least they had left him with that little scrap of dignity. But if he wanted to leave the room he was going to have to wrap himself in a blanket and drag the IV pole behind him. He did wish they had given him one of those ridiculous gowns that left half of you flapping in the wind.

Giving up, at least for the moment, his quest to find the head nurse, Gage quickly slid back down into the suddenly frigid coldness of the sheets and clumsily tried to tuck the two blankets back around his now goose bumped skin. So much for feeling better, he thought grimly, as his stomach started a vicious dance that was sure to lead to a date with one of those kidney shaped emesis basins. A tryst he absolutely could give up without a second thought; he leaned his head back against the bunched up pillow and let his eyes drift shut. He savored the darkness behind the closed lids and grudgingly allowed his restless mind to surrender to much needed sleep.

~eeeEEEeee~

Johnny would probably have considered himself lucky that he was trapped in his treatment room if he had known the direction that Miss McCall was presently heading in. She had bid goodbye to the two firemen from Station 51 after hearing their plans to pick up the waterlogged Gage; as she strolled towards Dr. Brackett’s office she wondered if Roy had noticed her reference to springing Johnny out of “this gin joint”? (1) It seemed her mind was still dwelling on where she had been  last night, along with her thoughts about the movie Casablanca as she had carefully dressed for the evening. Funny how the mind ran in many different directions; which of course reminded her that she needed to talk to the beleaguered paramedic about her adventure….

Humming a little under her breath and suddenly feeling energized, Dixie unlocked the office door that led into the private sanctuary of the head man of the Emergency department. She allowed herself a huff of laughter that the stubborn doctor was still soundly sleeping; he really shouldn’t argue with her about matters concerning his health. She knew him well enough to be able to gauge his moods, most of the time anyway, and could usually accurately pinpoint whether it was a fatigue related complaint or just a plain bad day.

“Kel,” she said quietly, touching his shoulder and then running her hand down his arm. He stirred, mumbled something that sounded like “just a few more minutes Mom”, and began to roll onto his side and away from her. Shaking her head in amusement, Dix stopped his progress and spoke his name louder.

“Whaattt...” he mumbled, slapping in irritation at the hand that she was now gently stroking his cheek with. He blinked up at her, and then smiled as he came fully awake.

“Dix,” he acknowledged, in a voice husky with sleep. He covered her hand with his and held it still against the scratchy stubble on his cheek. “Is it that time already?”

“Sorry, yes,” she conceded reluctantly, wishing that they were not at work and could take this moment further. She gently disengaged her hand and stepped back from temptation, feeling her pulse racing.

Kelly Brackett huffed out a breath of annoyance but sat up, running a hand through his hair and then scrubbing it across his face. “Guess I was a bit more tired than I thought.”

“How’s the headache?” Dixie asked and maintained her distance with her hands safely shoved into her pockets.

He slowly got to his feet, trying to brush out the wrinkles in his shirt. Dixie left her comfort zone and stepped forward to straighten and tighten his tie, her hands quick and sure as she tweaked his collar down over it. He captured her hands once again as she started to withdraw, and brought them to his lips.

“Thanks to you, it’s gone,” he whispered. There was an easy moment of stillness and silence before he released her; he watched as she picked up his coat and held it ready for him to slip on. He obediently turned and stepped backwards into it, curbing his usual impatience as she settled the white material onto his shoulders. He could feel her very feminine form pressing into his back as she slid both arms down his chest and tugged the coat down; he closed his eyes to savor the brief moment of intimacy. Within seconds the closeness was gone as she briskly strolled over to the door and opened it, shooting him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. She tapped the gold watch on her wrist and gave him a slow smile that made his blood boil even more.

“It’s awfully close to ten, Kel, where’s your meeting?”

“Upstairs with that bunch of vultures whom are probably already clustered together waiting for their prey to appear…” he answered sarcastically, wondering if she was trying to ruin his good mood on purpose.

“The prey being you I suppose?” She queried in all innocence, blinking her long lashed eyes at him.

“Of course it’s me; I’m always the first one sacrificed on the altar of funding,” Bracket huffed, crossing his arms defensively.

“I suppose…..” she purred, her sultry smile growing even wider as she observed his growing ire. “People would say that’s what you get paid for.”

“Dix!” He snarled, as she darted out the door, a delicious laugh trailing out behind her. He couldn’t explain it, but her sudden departure left him feeling suddenly bereft.  He shook his head and uttered a heartfelt but mild obscenity under his breath, marveling at the way she could play him and how easily he fell for it.

He followed her out the door and into the waiting area. He was pleasantly surprised at the much smaller group of people left in the bland room; Dix and her band of white hatted nurses had either processed the mass of humanity through the emergency rooms at a record pace, or the steady stream of patients had slowed to a trickle. Probably both, he mused, as he briskly made his way across the dirty floor that needed some attention. An orderly towards the end of the hall was addressing that issue with sure strokes of his string mop.

“Right on top of that too,” he mumbled in admiration, swinging around an empty gurney and pulling up sharply to miss the exiting white coated man from an exam room. The other doctor paused, recognized him, and stretched out a welcoming hand.

“Kelly Brackett!” He exclaimed in delight, pumping Kel’s hand with exuberance.

Brackett smiled and lightly punched his shoulder. “Dr. Estrada! You decide to descend from your lofty perch to harass the peasants?”

José snorted and gripped his colleague’s hand tighter. “The way I hear it, old man, you’re the big cheese down here ruling the roost, and now I’m just one of the peasants. How does it feel to run the emergency department?”

“Most days, it feels just fine,” Kelly responded, withdrawing his hand and shaking it ruefully. “Careful now, I need these hands for surgery. What brings you, or maybe I should say who called you, to help out?”

“That would be your excellent Miss McCall,” Estrada replied, turning as Brackett motioned towards the elevator with his still numb hand. They headed down the hallway, shoulder to shoulder. “She asked for some reinforcements; I just happened to have early rounds this morning and was available. Perfect timing, as I’ve wanted to check out your little kingdom for quite some time.”

Brackett snorted in disbelief, but his twitching lips were giving away his true thoughts. “I think I would use the word snooping, José, but I’ll let it slide this time. What are your thoughts on it?”

“I’m suitably impressed, Kel, even with how busy it was. It’s quite the well-organized department with an almost competent staff, especially considering who’s in charge of it,” he teased, pulling back in mock alarm as Kelly aimed a fist at him.

Brackett dropped his fist and lifted his eyebrows quizzically as the rest of the words sank in. “Wait, you said ALMOST competent staff, what does that mean exactly?”

Estrada stepped to the side of the hallway and pushed up his thick glasses with his index finger. “Ah, well, I think that problem has been addressed. I think for the young lady it was a combination of her nursing inexperience, my reputation, and the equally youthful paramedic that had a hard time staying upright on the exam table.”

“Oh?” Dr. Brackett crossed his arms for the second time in a brief span of time and scowled, his mind running through the short list of paramedics assigned to his hospital and settling rapidly on the youngest one. His lips thinned in irritation as his guess was confirmed; his good mood completely evaporated as Estrada filled him in on the nurse’s misadventures with the needle. His hands clenched under the shelter of his arms and then relaxed as he realized that the two women who basically managed the department had already dealt with the new nurse and had obviously allayed any fears that Estrada might have had with the rest of the staff’s aptitude. He shook himself out of his thoughts as his attention focused back on what his friend was saying; he sincerely hoped he hadn’t missed too much.

“…and that you had a key role in getting the program off the ground.” The other doctor finished, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, the paramedic program, perhaps I did, but it was bound to happen with or without me….it appears to be moving along fairly well. There’s problems of course, always will be, but I’m certain that time and experience will erase most of the wrinkles. We could certainly use your talents with the next class of trainees,” Kelly hinted slyly, trying to divert the focus away from his participation.

He listened and responded to several more comments and questions that José had about the Emergency department and the medic program with careful concentration. He was glad he could speak his mind to his friend, and not worry about him misinterpreting his often straightforward answers. Unfortunately, it also meant that Estrada knew him so well that he would pick up on any negativity in his voice. He was careful to keep his voice pleasant, bland almost, when he spoke of the wannabe doctors playing around with the unwary citizens of Los Angeles County.

Because oh yes, he still had some serious misgivings about the fledgling paramedic operation. There was no way he was going to admit that to anyone, not to Estrada and especially not to the woman who was often his confidant. If he even tried to vent to the staunch and fiercely loyal Dixie, he had no doubt that she wouldn’t let him get more than two sentences out of his mouth before dumping her martini on him and booting him out the door. She was and would always remain a strong supporter of the whole thing. So this was something he needed to work on alone; ultimately, he would have to reconcile himself to the fact that the paramedic program wouldn’t be going anywhere. Unless of course those young fools pulled another stunt similar to the one with Dix before the bill had even passed…….

Bidding his counterpart a fond farewell, Kelly watched him head towards the nurses’ station to finish up paperwork. He twisted his arm to glance at his watch and frowned in indecision, something that was not familiar to him. His choices were always made decisively and without regret afterwards, so why was he second guessing now? Thanks to Dixie’s ten minute early wake up call, he still had a few minutes left before he would have to ascend to the upper echelons of the building. More than enough time to pop into a treatment room and check on one of those “young fools” he had just been mentally berating.

He huffed in irritation, abruptly spun on his heel, and turned sharply down the hallway to his right. He paused, palm on the door, to take a deep, calming breath and then entered the darkened room. He could hear Gage’s slow, steady breathing punctuated with an occasional wheeze; his hand automatically dove into his pocket to grab his stethoscope.

The arm dangling over the side caught his attention as he moved to the side of the bed. He carefully took hold of Gage’s wrist and checked his pulse, wondering why the two thermal blankets were covering the man all the way up to his nose. He got his answer when he rolled down the blankets and saw that the young nurse’s incompetency also extended to the wardrobe department. Apparently it was too much to ask that a man on the edge of hypothermia couldn’t get at least one of those blasted gowns to wear. And what the hell had Estrada been thinking? Surely his patients upstairs got that simple cotton luxury.

Tucking John’s arm back up on the mattress, Brackett shook his head as his mood slid back into his earlier annoyance with the hospital staff. He wrapped his hand around the diaphragm end of his stethoscope to warm it, paused a moment, then put the tips in his ears and slid the slightly warmer end on Gage’s chest. He grunted in satisfaction at what he heard, or what he didn’t hear, and tucked his stethoscope back into his lab coat pocket.

“So what’s the verdict, Doc?”

Kelly jumped slightly as the whisper floated up from the blankets he had just pulled back up. He stepped back a fraction as the paramedic shifted uncomfortably and both hands appeared, yanking up the covers even higher.

“The lungs sound good, but you feel warm. Were you running a fever before that last run?” Brackett asked, laying the back of his hand against Gage’s forehead for a moment to confirm his suspicion.

Johnny pressed his head back into the pillow at the unexpected temperature check and quizzically regarded the doctor hovering over him, who had crossed his arms and had his lips twitching in a weird way. “Yeah, a bit, it’s just a bug I picked up.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “The hospital doing budget cuts again?”

Kelly stared down at the younger man, his irritation ratcheting up another notch. He’d been in the room for only two minutes and already Gage was crawling under his skin and elevating his blood pressure. Gage’s vague answer to a completely valid question had been the expected response but it had at least been a complete sentence; that was a definite improvement from their last meeting. The question that had followed, however, was what had his blood boiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean, budget cuts in HIS hospital?

The sharp retort that was about to fly was choked off before it left his lips as the doctor noticed one of John’s sheet clutching hands release its grip and move up to tentatively rub the side of his bruised face. The hand then continued on to slowly brush at his forehead; it was such a weary and resigned gesture that Kel was suddenly rethinking his attitude. Something DeSoto had said to him earlier tugged impatiently at his memory and he frowned, unable to remember what it had been.  Gage’s wary reaction with doctors, was that what it was? And how Kel himself had responded to the perceived insult; yet here was the supposedly arrogant and argumentative hose jockey lying quietly and without obvious rancor. In fact, the guy was staring up at him with a puzzled look and a tiny smile.

The side of the sheet that John had released dropped slightly exposing part of a bare shoulder and the doctor suddenly understood Johnny’s question. So maybe the kid was making an effort to be friendly or at least civil this time around. No gown, using his hand as a thermometer……budget cuts indeed! He was about to reply to the understated joke with a quip of his own concerning the lucky placement of his hand as opposed to where he could have put it, when the door swung open.

Dixie glided in, her arms full of clothing. She glanced in surprise at Kelly hovering next to the paramedic and closed in, pulling out something white.

“Johnny,” she said, shaking out what Brackett now recognized as a white V-necked t-shirt. “Here’s your uniform, nice and warm, right out of the dryer. Kel?”

“Uhmm?” He asked, his eyes following her pointing finger to the IV bottle, which appeared to be now empty. Nodding his head, he checked Johnny’s level of dehydration via a new reading on his pulse and one on his blood pressure, laying down and then again standing up. He noted that by the time he had the cuff off of the medic’s arm Dix had expertly pulled on clothing so that Gage was now dressed from the waist down, except for his shoes.

Kelly picked up the chart from the counter and quickly scanned the notations before nodding another affirmation to the nurse. She deftly removed the IV and bandaged the site, and within another minute had the t-shirt over Johnny’s head. He emerged from the opening looking surprised and mutely slid his arms into the sleeves.

Now thoroughly perusing the first page of the chart, Brackett looked up in time to catch the look on Gage’s face and smirked. “She kinda does that to a fella…”

“Very funny, Dr. Brackett,” Dixie responded, shooting him a withering glare and slowing her own movements as she noticed Johnny’s wince of discomfort as he twisted to pull the shirt down. The blue uniform shirt went on next, the right sleeve first; she leaned behind him and pulled it across his back before skirting the partly reclined table and finishing the process on the other side.

“Did Dr. Estrada take x-rays...?” Kel paused mid-sentence, flipping up the page to check the one beneath, checking for what tests his friend had ordered. He hadn’t missed that flash of pain either.

“Yeah, ribs on down, he checked everything,” Johnny replied softly, wondering what new bruises were going to be coloring his skin tomorrow. That belt had really dug in.

“Do you have bruises anywhere else to match the ones on your face?” The nurse asked curiously, pausing in her self-appointed buttoning of his shirt to lightly touch the map of color on the side of his face. When he tried to pull back from her hand she firmly grasped his chin and used her other hand to feel his forehead. She made a noise and turned to one of the drawers behind her.

“All kinds of ‘em, and just as pretty as the ones up here,” he responded with a half-smile, flicking his fingers upwards. “Say Dixie, how did it go last night?”

“Now John, you know better than to try and distract me from my interrogation, as my student nurses call it,” she answered, mumbling under her breath when she couldn’t locate the thermometer where it was supposed to be.

“More like an inquisition is what I hear,” Johnny added mischievously, his body shaking slightly with something more than the chills.

Dixie spun around, the now found mercury rod clutched tightly. “Roll over Mr. Gage, and let me show you exactly how my “inquisition” starts!”

“I’m not scared of you,” he boasted bravely and foolishly; his voice was abruptly cut off as his inquisitor shoved the thermometer into his opened mouth and sternly told him “under your tongue right now!”

Kelly Brackett stood silently by, his own mouth agape, as the words and actions swirled by him. He kept returning to Gage’s question about Dix’s activities last night. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the comfortable interaction between the two professionals in front of him. What had that young pup been up to?  From all accounts, he had been sliding down hills, taking in smoke that didn’t involve fires, and finishing up his shift by swimming in a flood canal. He hadn’t been involved personally then; he had just known her plans.

So what had SHE been doing? As far as he knew, she had been home alone last night, not out gallivanting around. He felt an unexpected lance of jealousy shoot through him; he quelled it quickly, bent his head, and finished reading the notes. No matter what his feelings were for Dixie, or his hang-ups, his professionalism would only allow him a second to dwell on anything not work related. Her voice caught his notice again and he half listened as he added his own scrawl to the chart.

“Mm... it’s just what I thought, 102. Do you have anything stronger at home then aspirin?”

Hearing no answer, Kel finished his scribble and moved to stand next to McCall. She was directing a steely stare at the paramedic, who finally used a halfhearted shrug as an answer. So Gage was back to working on his nonverbal communication and earning Dix’s wrath in the process. The fire boy was really going to have to work on his conversation skills if he was going to survive within the often bumpy atmosphere of this hospital.

He apparently was a fast learner, though, as he correctly interpreted Dixie’s glare and answered her in a sheepish voice. “Um, no, don’t think I do.”

“Alright, I’ll give you some Tylenol now, and stop by your place after you get some rest to drop off a bottle and your prescription for the antibiotics. You need to get that fever down, Johnny, and get those fluids in.” She stopped and smiled at his scowl, and added a few more words in a teasing tone. “But of course you know the drill…..and maybe if you’re a good boy and do what you’re told I’ll tell you how it went last night.”

She turned and opened the cabinet door above the counter, ignoring the disbelieving snort from the fireman. Johnny wisely held back a retort; Brackett was pretty sure, however, that an eye roll happened before Dixie spun back around. He was unable to hold back his own huff of amusement, which of course earned him one of the annoyed looks she was so good at. She really did have that look perfected, he mused.

“You stay right there until your ride gets here….” she ordered, handing Gage two of the pills and a paper cup of water.

“Yes ma’am!” John’s hand went up in a half salute as he downed the pills and fell back against the sheet in mock fright. But when he handed the cup back, his hand was shaking slightly and the light hearted banter ended as quickly as it had started. Dixie, her demeanor instantly professional but solicitous, pulled the blankets up and Gage unfolded his legs from their crisscross position and slid them under the covers.

The doctor reached out a hand to assist but pulled back when Dix nudged him gently back but left her hand on his arm. She fussed with the coverings a moment with her free hand before stepping back herself and drawing Kelly with her.

“Thanks Dix,” Johnny said quietly. He glanced at Brackett and gave him a short nod before closing his eyes.

It was Brackett who propelled his head nurse out of the room. He encouraged her towards the solitude of the dead end hallway and stopped her before they reached the large window at the end.

“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” He asked, keeping his voice calm.

“And just which part would you like to know about?” She answered, clearly puzzled.

“Well, for starters, why was our patient in there lacking in clothing? And who is the nurse who apparently doesn’t know how to raise a vein?”

“That exam room, as you well know, is not used very often. During our little rush earlier, someone decided to “borrow” a few supplies from there; obviously that included those immodest gowns. By the time Miss Levor located the missing apparel, Johnny was already well wrapped and warm in the blankets. I didn’t want to disturb him further. As for Nurse Levor, this was her first time with dehydration,” Dix paused, anticipating the next question ready to tumble from Brackett. “Yes, of course her actions have been addressed, written up, etc. etc.; you know better than to think otherwise, Kel.”

Kelly nodded, relaxing his stiff stance somewhat. “I do, and I also know they most likely will not be repeated because of the further training you’ll assign her to complete.”

“So why the twenty questions…..ahhh! I understand now!” A mischievous gleam lit up the nurse’s eyes and she regarded the man standing before her with a fond smile. “Why Dr. Brackett, I do believe you’re jealous!”

“Me, jealous, I absolutely am not!” He denied vehemently, his eyebrows shooting upwards incredulously. “I’m just curious as to what you were up to last night.”

She tapped a long, manicured nail against his arm and shook her head. Even though there was no one in the hallway, she immediately stepped back to maintain what she referred to as her “none of their business space”, ever mindful of the roles they both had in the Emergency department. “Like I told John in different words, this is not the place or time for it. That information is best shared over a very dry martini.”

He started to make a remark about why Gage already had knowledge of her plans, but decided it wasn’t in his best interests to pursue that avenue of questioning. She could be as tight lipped about things as the firefighter snoozing down the hall from them; although, he definitely was going to somehow find out how and why those two knew each other so well.

“Kel?” Dixie asked, moving a step closer to get his attention.

“Yes,” he answered, blinking rapidly for a second to collect his thoughts.

“You’re going to be late, or you are late, for your meeting upstairs.”

“Oh, s**t!” He exclaimed, whipping around and breaking into a fast trot. Dixie watched in amusement as he moved rapidly down the hallway with his opened coat flapping about his legs. She followed at a more sedate pace, heading towards the noisy chaos of the main corridor.

As she passed by the exam room, Johnny startled awake from the few minutes of sleep he had snatched. He lay still for a moment before sitting up straight and looking towards the corner of the room.

“I wonder where they put my shoes?” he asked out loud to the empty room, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead.

~TBC~

 

 

 

A/N - (1) The full quote “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine” is from the movie Casablanca. Humphrey Bogart is referring to Ingrid Bergman.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**__ **

Roy DeSoto entered the swooshing doors of the Emergency entrance, his sandaled feet automatically following the path they used when they brought in a patient. He had Johnny’s blue uniform jacket slung over his arm and he was dressed in his civvies. He couldn’t help but glance about with slightly narrowed eyes, hoping that this time he would meet up with Kelly Brackett. He still had a sour taste in his mouth as he recalled his early morning encounter with the doctor, and after quite a few hours to mull over the situation, was more than ready to go toe to toe with his new partner’s nemesis, no matter what Gage would think of it. He knew he had defended Johnny earlier, but it still gnawed at him; he should have been more aggressive with his words, instead of holding back. He shook his head and continued forward at a faster walk.

Marco Lopez, following a step or two behind, picked up his pace to keep up with the longer legged paramedic. He was also garbed in his street clothes; only his feet were shod in white tennis shoes that made no sound on the newly clean linoleum tiles of the floor. Even though it had been Chet who had come up with the plan for picking up Gage, he’d had to beg off when he remembered his promise to help his sister move. Marco, who had been heading out of the locker room, had overheard Chet’s words and volunteered to assist.

Marco looked around with interest, thankfully never having been in this part of the hospital before. He’d been treated for smoke inhalation several times, and once for dehydration, but that had been over at St. Francis. Of course since his family was so huge, he’d been all over various parts of that hospital at one time or another and upstairs in this one, just never as a patient.

Rampart Emergency looked like it was laid out similar to St. Francis. What was blatantly different and interested Marco the most however, was the new paramedic base station. He hadn’t had the chance to see it yet, in any of the three hospitals in their area of the county that had it, and had to admit he was curious. While he had no desire to join the brand new program, he still wanted to see how the whole thing worked.

Roy seemed to be reading his mind, for he paused at a desk next to where a nurse and an older man were standing. The distinguished looking gentleman, his sliver grey hair neatly combed, was pulling a crisply starched white lab coat over his equally pressed pink dress shirt while studying white tape spitting from a blue machine near them. The nurse was scribbling something on a single sheet of paper affixed to a metal clipboard, listening with interest to the conversation emitting from the radio unit.

“10-4, Rescue 36, sinus rhythm confirmed, is the ambulance there?” The doctor asked, flicking a switch on the machine and looking over at the nurse. He nodded as the affirmative reply came through the radio, advised 36s to transport immediately and shut off another switch on the tape machine that was apparently recording the call. He ripped the paper from what Marco assumed was the EKG machine, rolled it neatly and handed the tight scroll of paper to the nurse.

“Well hello Roy, you just coming off shift, or is it your day off?” He asked, smiling warmly at the out of uniform paramedic.

“A little of both, Doc, just came off shift and starting my days off. This is Marco Lopez, one of the guys on our crew.  Marco, this Doctor Joe Early.”

The men shook hands and exchanged normal pleasantries before Joe turned back to Roy. “So what brings you by the hospital? I’m assuming, since you’re both coming off shift, that your next step would be to head home for some sleep. At least that’s my understanding of how most of you fellows work those odd schedules.”

DeSoto nodded his head and fiddled with the black knob of the large rolodex sitting on the corner of the desk. “Right, that’s the way we usually do it. We’re here to pick up John Gage; they kept him for a few hours to get some fluids in him. Do you know if he’s ready?”

“Sorry Roy, just came on myself, and haven’t made it past the radio yet,” Early replied, fingering the stethoscope hanging out of his lab coat pocket. He shrugged and threw up a hand in resignation when the beige phone on the wall rang. Excusing himself, he stepped over to answer it and the firemen continued down the hall.

“So that’s what it looks like,” Marco mused, once again hastening his pace to keep up with the other man’s longer strides. “It’s always nice to see what you’re hearing.”

Roy slowed and cast a puzzled glance in the lineman’s direction. “What?”

“Well, we’ve been out on a few incidents with you guys, and heard your calls back and forth between here and wherever you’re at, and somehow I just couldn’t imagine how this whole setup looked.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty nifty system they got there, especially with the biophone and all. It sure beats having to find a land line when you’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Lopez nodded in agreement and understanding; technology was an amazing thing. They rounded a corner and almost ran into a nurse.

“Whoa there!” She exclaimed, throwing up a hand to keep body parts from colliding.

Roy made introductions once again, and Marco met the woman he had heard the paramedics talking about; the daring one who had inadvertently pushed Kelly Brackett into a decision to support their program. He smiled at her, pleased to finally meet her. He thought she was beautiful, and also agreed silently to the firehouse gossip that she was dating Brackett. Brackett was the only person from this hospital that he had met before today and that had only been because the doctor stopped by the station to look over the medical gear in the rescue truck. The guy had struck him as a very intelligent man, and there was no way a man that smart wouldn’t date a lady this pretty, feisty, and smart to boot.

A brief conversation ensued, Dixie McCall updated them on Gage, asked Roy to remind him that she would drop off his prescription after her shift, and then hurried on her way to answer the page bleating from the loudspeaker. The men continued a short distance down the hall and Roy led the way into a room with a swinging door. A lot of swinging doors in these public places, Marco mused, thinking of all the ones in their station. He looked around the small room and didn’t see anyone.

“Johnny?” Roy asked, pausing by the exam table that had a couple of blankets piled on it.

There was a thunk behind the privacy screen in the corner and a dark head appeared around the edge of it. The rest of Gage appeared holding a shoe in one hand and the other shoe untied on his foot.

“Hey guys,” he murmured, relief evident in his voice. He shuffled over to them, and leaned against the table to stuff his sock clad foot into the shoe. “Thanks for the ride…”

“Sure no problem,” Roy answered, reaching out a hand to steady him as he tilted ominously while bending down to lace up the ties. “Chet forgot he promised his sister help in moving, so Marco volunteered to help out.”

Johnny straightened up slowly and favored the lineman with a tiny, wary smile. “That’s great, thanks Marco.”

“How did your uniform get dry?” DeSoto asked, wondering about the feel of the dry material under his fingers when he had grabbed his upper arm.

“You know, there’s really something to be said about being on good terms with the head nurse,” he responded, and this time the smile was bigger. He shrugged into the jacket Roy draped over his shoulders and zipped it up. Watching him snug the collar up, Marco decided that he must be still chilled from his dunking in the canal. Then again, he had to fight off a shiver of his own in the frigid temperature of the exam room.

Johnny flipped his hand toward the door. “Can we get out of here?”

Roy snickered in response to both of Gage’s comments and led the way out of the room. The three firefighters strolled down the hallway, Roy acknowledging several nurses and interns, John silent, and Lopez still marveling at the fairly new department. Stepping outside through the automatic doors, they moved aside to allow a gurney being pushed by two ambulance attendants pass by. Marco noticed the angry sneers sent the paramedics’ way by both of the uniformed men, and wondered what had warranted the nasty looks.

“What’s with those guys?” He asked curiously, catching up to his crewmates and walking abreast of them. “If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now.”

Johnny turned his head to look back over his shoulder at the men who had already disappeared into the sterile depths of the hospital; DeSoto didn’t turn so apparently he had noticed the expressions on those men’s faces.

“They think we’re trying to take their jobs,” he answered, stopping beside the tail light of his Porsche. “I’ll let Johnny explain that one to you….how about I follow you since I don’t know where you live.”

“Sure. My gear, is it still back at the station?” John asked.

“It’s in your van amigo, Roy packed up your stuff for you when he got your keys out of your locker,” Marco explained, going over to the driver’s door of Johnny’s Volkswagen camper which was parked next to his partner’s sports car. “You don’t mind me driving, do you?”

“No, no, go ahead.” Johnny slowly made his way to the other side of his off white bus and gingerly climbed in. His bag was indeed on the floor between the seats, behind the floor shift that Marco was now trying to work into reverse.

“Sticks a little,” he apologized, as it took Marco two tries to slide it fully into reverse.

“No problem, a heck of a lot easier to shift then Chet’s van!” The lineman exclaimed with a grin, backing out of the space and getting the VW into first with no problem. Johnny gave him directions, than settled back into his seat as they headed towards his apartment.

After a moment’s silence, Lopez let his curiosity get the best of him and decided to ask about the attendants’ baleful glares. First he checked his mirror to see if DeSoto was behind them and was startled when Gage cleared his throat and broke the quiet first.

“I wanted to thank you for, you know, cleaning up my stuff for me after that mud run,” he began, glancing over at him and then shifting his attention back out the window. He paused, wiggling in his seat. “And I think I was rude to you when you, well, when you were trying to talk to me on the engine…at least what I can remember of the ride.”

He laughed nervously and seemed to be considering the sky overhead, which was beginning to clear of the grey clouds. “So, sorry about that …”

Marco nodded, not sure why John was apologizing but deciding that further conversation about that wet ride back to the station was pointless. He’d put it out of his mind hours ago, and since it seemed like it was quite an effort for the younger man to even talk about it, why bother?

“It’s all good, John, forget about it.” Flipping the blinker, he changed lanes and then downshifted as he approached a red light. He glanced sideways for a second, noting the flash of relief. “Next right, correct?”

“Yeah, it’s the quickest way.” He paused for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts. “So, did they ever find the driver of that car that disappeared down the canal?”

Lopez grimaced. The stupidity of drivers never ceased to amaze him; they had all known as soon as Gage found the car empty that unless it had flown into the canal by itself there was going to be a very slim chance of survival for any of the occupants. They had received the expected news after returning to the station.

“Yes, downstream less than a half mile away. The guy you and Roy pulled out of that Pinto apparently got ran off the road by the hombre in the Charger, so he’s in the clear.”

Johnny started to shake his head, thought better of it, and instead sighed out a noise that pretty much matched the face Marco had made a second earlier. The lineman took the turn that Gage indicated with a wave of his hand and wondered why people did the stupid things they did. They might never know the reason behind the actions of the driver of the Dodge and while the sheriff’s department would figure out some of it by witness statements and evidence, the information would probably never make it to their station unless someone had a connection over there. It really was a tough way to end their shift.

Marco shot another look sideways, curious to how the baby of their crew was absorbing the news. Aside from a convulsive swallow, Johnny’s face remained emotionless, blank really. His eyes were half shuttered against the light that had started to filter in through the windshield once they had turned. He must have felt the lineman’s curious stare because he casually turned his head away to stare out his window, effectively blocking any further scrutiny.

Focusing back on the congested traffic in front of them, Lopez mulled over what he knew of Gage. He wasn’t sure how long he had been with the fire department; he only knew from a comment Hammer had made that Gage had the least time in on the job of everyone in the station and also had the dubious honor of being the youngest. Except for Chet he really didn’t know anything about the guys on his shift, or any of the other men in the new station.  Probably had met or worked with a few in the past, but aside from a couple of names he didn’t remember much about them. There was also the inevitable gossip and stories that flew around but how much of that was true was questionable, especially the further it flew from its source. But since Johnny was a rescue man which required additional training, Lopez figured he had at least two years on the job and probably closer to three by the way he handled himself. He exuded confidence, determination, a whole hell of a lot of seriousness, and a bit of cockiness that reminded Marco of himself when he had been that age.

Well, cockiness was an okay thing, at least in his book. He was certain that every man that had ever applied to be a firefighter and made it through the training deserved to carry that bit of well-earned swagger. This wasn’t a job for the faint of heart, or anyone lacking in physical strength. And to top it all off, they all had to be strong hearted and equally tenacious in their minds. You had to be able to go home at the end of the shift and turn everything off - just let the faint memory of it touch you to keep yourself human. Otherwise, it would tear you apart.

He had seen firsthand the dangers of taking everything to heart, thinking and analyzing every little detail about a bad fire or multi car pileup until it destroyed you, leaving nothing but a flesh and blood shell. Sure there were ways to cover and keep pushing it back, like the method he had used until it had caught him and nearly destroyed him. He had witnessed a good friend bury his growing horror in a bottle after every shift; while he was now a recovering alcoholic he no longer worked in the profession he had loved.

Thinking about each of the men assigned to their shift, Lopez could only hope they were all strong enough to handle everything that was thrown their way. Since Gage was the man with the least time on the job, that meant they all had a quite a bit of time in, so hopefully that was a good indicator of their strength.

Captain Hammer, well, he seemed a very calm and competent leader. The only thing about him that bothered Lopez was that he displayed very little emotion and maybe was just a little too calm; was the mostly blank faced man holding in all of his joys and sorrows? If that was so, it would mean that at some time the dam was going to burst and whether or not he survived it remained to be seen. Marco could only hope that it was their Cap’s coping defense and that the face he retained at work was only used during poker games on his time off. He also hoped after they had worked together for a while that Hammer would join them off duty on occasion. That was the one thing he had heard about their new boss; he hadn’t socialized much with any of his prior crews. And so far he had turned down the several casual invitations he and Chet had extended to him. Of course both little excursions had been to their favorite watering hole to play pool and throw back a few so maybe that was the problem. Cap was married after all and sometimes that was a big no-no with the wives. He would have to think of a more family friendly activity and see how that turned out.

Then there was the other married man on the engine crew - Mike Stoker. He was truly an enigma as far as the lineman was concerned. Since he had met the engineer, he was pretty sure could take all the words he had spoken, mix them into a Scrabble game, and be hard pressed to come up with any words of a decent length. You couldn’t help but wonder what little tidbits of deep knowledge were hiding behind that closed mouth because you sure didn’t advance as far as Mike had without gathering both book knowledge and common sense along the way. The guy was probably a walking fountain of information and experience; Marco just wasn’t sure how to turn on the words. It wasn’t as if he wanted a gusher flowing out of him, just a trickle would do.

Now since Stoker was still a newlywed, he wasn’t expected to socialize with the other men – yet. They had kiddingly invited him those same two times not expecting an affirmative response; he had not disappointed them with his “sorry, no” answer but had surprised Marco a bit with the wink and shy smile that had followed as he had slid on his silver wedding ring that he kept in his locker during shift. The older man had a feeling that when Mike did join them, his wife would be tagging along. It was rumored that the taciturn man had met his wife while ploughing his dune buggy through the sands of Los Angeles and now that he was married, continued with his outings to the beach and other places with his wife right beside him. Marco couldn’t wait to meet Mrs. Stoker and hear the story of how they had met and how she communicated with him.

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as they got caught in traffic and began a slow creep down the road. He heard Gage shifting just as restlessly in his seat and the metal click of the glove box shutting; he had retrieved and donned his aviator shaped sunglasses. The sun that had been playing peek a boo behind the grey clouds for the last hour had finally made a full appearance and was flooding through the van’s windshield with its usual morning brilliance.

Cranking down the window, he stuck his head out and scanned the sky. The clouds were sliding away, promising good weather for their days off.  If they ever got to enjoy them, that is. The traffic was now stopped completely; there had to be at least fifteen vehicles ahead of them in their lane before the traffic light. Marco pulled his head back in and looked over at his passenger, wincing a bit as the bright light illuminated the rainbow of colors splashing down the side of his face. Having been on the receiving end of an errant hose a few times, Lopez had a deep sympathy for the aches and pains the other man must be feeling right now.

He started to say something sympathetic about the bruises and realized if Gage was like all the other guys he had ever worked with, soft words and commiserating would not go over well at all. They were all macho firemen after all, and while they might encourage or welcome that kind of soothing sentiment from spouses or girlfriends, joking or even criticism was the only thing even remotely allowed from their crew mates. He decided to skip that whole avenue of dialogue and try a different route.

“So what’s the story behind those ambulance guys? The ones that were giving you and Roy the dirty looks?” he asked, inching forward another several feet and noting that the traffic light had just turned red again and only two cars had made it through while green.

“Ignorance sums it up pretty well,” John replied, completely serious in his answer. “They think we want their jobs.”

“Oh…” Marco replied, mulling it over. Come to think of it, he had heard of some kind of animosity between the ambulance crews and the new paramedics, most of it if not all of it emanating from the men who seemed to think their jobs were at stake. “But the fire department, as far as I know, isn’t going to get into the business of transporting patients…or are we?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I would say no. As far as those stretcher guys, who knows?” He hitched one shoulder up in a halfhearted shrug and gazed pensively out the front windshield, his thoughts straying somewhere else.

Lopez watched another two cars make it through the green light and a third one run it, barely missing being t-boned by the traffic beginning its flow the other direction. Beside him he heard the movements of Gage tensing up, then relaxing , as aside from squealing brakes and honking horns, the car darted away unscathed.

“Lucky idiot,” the paramedic mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and tucking his chin down.

“Got that right,” Marco agreed, rolling his window back up after a sideward slide of his eyes confirmed another shiver running the length of his crewmate’s body. If the heating system in this van was anything like that of Chet’s, then there was no point of even turning it on. He wondered again if Gage was simply feeling the after effects of a dunking in cold water, the thorough drenching of a chilling rain, and those few dives into the Dominguez Channel on his shift over at the other station. The guy looked like he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, after all. Or were those flushed cheeks, sweat beading on his brow, and those little quivers the symptoms of something else? With these delays, he had thought for sure that Johnny would have been passed out in his seat from exhaustion by now; working a double shift with only a couple of hours of asleep strewn here and there was a downright brain and body killer for any man, no matter how young they were. Yet if anything, Johnny looked like he was ready to jump out of his own vehicle and jog the rest of the way to his apartment. He appeared to have finally settled now, at least for a few minutes, but since they had left the parking lot he had been fidgeting in some small way or another, enough so that it was making Marco a bit edgy.

“Aren’t you tired?” He finally asked as the movements began again. He resisted the very strong urge to reach across and hook the lap belt as Gage twisted sideways, stretched his legs out, and then pulled them back in raking his boot heels across the mat as he did. The legs stilled as the question was considered.

“Maybe too tired?” Johnny made a little nervous movement, the kind a horse makes when a fly settles on its skin, and trailed fingers down the side of his jaw. “I can’t seem to shut my brain off.”

He turned his head towards Marco and looked at him, although it was hard to tell where his eyes actually were because of the dark lenses. Marco figured he was staring right at his annoyed expression, though, because he looked embarrassed.

“Sorry about that,” the medic murmured, planting his feet flat on the floor with heels touching the seat front, and folding his hands in his lap like a small, disobedient boy waiting to take his punishment.

Lopez frowned and did some seat squirming of his own, peeved that he hadn’t hid his irritation better with a man he didn’t know all that well. He usually had a lot more patience; one had to when they had a thousand nephews and nieces. He could blame it on the snail crawling traffic or the fact that he was starting to wind down, but they sure were feeble excuses for acting like he was Gage’s father or something. Then again, why was the younger man being so, what, sensitive? 

“Marco?” A soft voice interrupted his self-berating and the questions that were ping ponging through his grey matter. “You play poker?”

Ok, Gage must be pulling his leg or have a very short attention span to be able to jump a thousand miles in a different direction. Or worse, maybe he had heard something about his problem.  Marco made sure his voice was calm before replying. “Sure, why?”

“Maybe you should grow a mustache…”

Marco’s confusion met this statement; maybe Johnny was becoming delirious in his sleep deprived state. “A mustache, why?”

“To hide your tell, Lopez, it’s like I can read your very thoughts in your upper lip.” Johnny ran a finger across his own faintly shadowed upper lip; his mouth twitched in a smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding! No wonder those guys keep taking me! I mean, we play for peanuts, literally, but still! If I owned an elephant the poor thing would be starving!” Marco complained, laughing a bit at his own words to cover up the brief flare of panic that swept over him and just as quickly disappeared; he wondered if he would always have that reaction when anything to do with betting or gambling was mentioned.

Another quick peek towards Gage to see if he had noticed any more “telling” facial expressions revealed the passenger staring intently out his window, apparently done with his face reading, mind reading, or whatever the heck he was playing at. Lopez swallowed down his sigh of relief. There wouldn’t be any need to volunteer the additional information about why he would only play for peanuts; betting those in a friendly weekly poker game with friends was as close as he planned on getting to any kind of gambling. That and of course the weird hands of cards they played at the station to determine “dish duty”. Gambling was an addiction that had taken him a long time to admit to, seek help, and then overcome. All which had been accomplished with the help and strong support of his immediate family and several close friends. Even now, several years later, he still had to smash down the urge to pick up the phone and place a bet when something stressful occurred. It was facing the disappointment of these same loyal friends that stayed his hand, along with his own fierce determination not to give in to the demons.

“Looks like it’s picking up a bit….” The casual comment interrupted his thoughts and the lineman acted accordingly; he drove the van forward, making it all the way to the light before having to stop again.

“You’re worse than Roy, hitting all the red lights,” Johnny complained, but his tone was teasing and Marco just nodded. There was no argument coming from him as it was true; but it was nice to know that there were other people in the world that had the same kind of “traffic light luck”.

Thinking about DeSoto as they waited for this light cycle to run through, Marco wondered if he was as uncomplicated as he appeared. The other married man on the shift, he presented himself as hardworking, fairly calm, intelligent, and sometimes quiet. Just what they needed, another tight lipped man on the crew, Marco thought with a smirk, including himself in that category. So far the only guy that seemed to be able to carry on a conversation for more than a minute was Chet, and as his comments were often somewhere far out in left field, the silence was usually preferred.

He thought about what lay beneath Roy’s placid demeanor. Could be anything, or for that matter nothing at all. He wasn’t really that good at reading people but there appeared to be a current of emotion that ran beneath the surface of the other man. A couple of times it had seemed that Roy was holding back anger, or some strong feeling akin to that; he had obviously mastered the art of keeping whatever it was under control, at least on the job. Marco sincerely hoped he didn’t take those bottled up feelings home with him and take them out on his family. But he really didn’t look as if he was the type of guy to do something like that; he hadn’t met his family yet but the few comments DeSoto had made about them had been full of pride and love. There was also the two or three phone calls in the station that he had answered that came from Roy’s wife and she was friendly, outgoing, and clearly as pleased with their marriage as her husband was. So no, Lopez discarded that idea as quickly as it had occurred to him.

If only he could find Chet Kelly a woman like that, Marco mused. Then maybe, just maybe, he would be distracted from the little pranks he was about to begin once more. He hadn’t actually confided to his shift mate that he was going to do so, but the Hispanic man was pretty sure he could read the signs. Kelly was definitely winding up to start something, and he was pretty certain that was what the something was. He really wished Chet would gain some confidence in his personal life; he had plenty while doing his job but seemed to only carry some of it with him when he left the station. Maybe not so much confidence, but insecurity or the need for attention was a good word to describe it. A late night confession after too many beers had led Chet to admit to his friend that dreaming up the pranks and pulling them off was his way of making his mark in the world; Marco personally believed that it went a little deeper than that, but of course that could have been the alcohol talking on either side! Whatever the case was, he counted Chet as one of his friends, a good friend if truth be told, and whatever help his fellow firefighter needed or didn’t need, he would be right there beside him.

Watching the traffic slow and stop the other way, Lopez couldn’t help but smile when their little caravan of two finally got the green light. As their next turn was only a quarter of a mile down the still congested road, it was less than five minutes before they made the turn, traveled another quick mile and reached the entrance to Johnny’s apartment building. There appeared to be only three deep, weather faded red, brick constructed structures that made up this particular complex and judging by the windows the buildings were all four stories high. John directed him towards the right side and his designated sparking space within the paved lot that fronted all three of the apartments, forming a “U” shape. Marco coasted the van between the faded white lines and shut off the engine.

“Thanks for the lift, Marco,” Gage said, twisting down and sideways to wrestle his bag out from between the seats. Lopez stayed him with a hand on his arm and Johnny looked up at him with his head tipped quizzically.

“Let me get it out of there; I kinda wedged it in so it wouldn’t go anywhere,” Marco apologized, holding out the keys. He didn’t really want the bruised fireman hefting the heavy bag and sincerely hoped there was an elevator, because he was pretty sure Johnny said he lived on the fourth floor.

Johnny looked at him for a long moment through his dark lenses and straightened up, accepting the keys. “Ok, sure, have at it.”

“What I want to know is, what exactly do you have in here?” Lopez grumbled, twisting the bag loose and dragging it up over the seat, pulling it after him and giving an exaggerated grunt as he exited the Volkswagen. He threw the bag up over his shoulder and met Gage on the sidewalk that fronted the parking spaces.

“Just the normal stuff, shoes and clothes, unless….” Johnny reached a hand up and felt the suspiciously bulging bag. “Oh, Roy must have tossed in the books I had stashed in my locker.”

“I did, wasn’t really sure what you wanted out of there,” DeSoto admitted easily, coming up beside them, his sandals slapping on the cement, and smiling. “Are you going to start a library in the locker room?”

“Nah, I just like to read different stuff.” Gage withdrew his hand and stepped back a step, giving Lopez space as he shifted the bag to a more comfortable position. The lineman gave a little wave for Johnny to precede him and followed him down the path that cut between two of the buildings. Roy trailed behind both of them, observing the area and wondering how much the rent was. While the grounds were neatly landscaped and the overall appearance of the whole area appeared well maintained, the buildings themselves seemed older with an antiquated feel to them.

“What kind of books do you read?” Marco asked curiously as they entered the building through a wide, medal door; Johnny used a key to open it. The place went up a notch in Roy’s opinion as security was always good. He paused before entering to check out the recessed panel next to the door. The barely visible square contained a list of apartment numbers with buttons next to them; he assumed these were intercom buttons that linked to each rental unit. Probably the tenants could buzz in their visitors too, if the system was anything like the others he had seen.

“A little bit of everything…” DeSoto heard Johnny’s voice floating away from him and he hastily darted through the door, making sure it closed and latched behind him.

He found himself in a decent sized space, carpeted in a slightly faded but clean rose print; it was the kind of floor covering that he could easily imagine in a Victorian parlor, not in a Los Angeles apartment building. But somehow it worked, maybe because of the flowered wallpaper covering the walls, the dark wide trim, and the very large, very ornate, and very gold chandelier hanging from the thankfully white tray ceiling. A hallway led off each side of the room, no doubt heading to the ground floor apartments. In the three foot wall space next to each door opening, a marble topped table and a red tufted chair took up residence.

An amused smile touching his lips, DeSoto spun in a slow circle to take in the rest of the room. A bank of mailboxes lined the wall facing the single elevator; narrow, un-curtained windows above the old fashioned gold fronted boxes flooded the entranceway with natural light. His crewmates were standing in front of the concealing, mahogany doors of the downward moving elevator. Gage was gazing blankly at some kind of palm plant, one of two that flanked the doors, while Marco was staring intently at Johnny.

“Fiction, non-fiction, cookbooks, how to manuals, and don’t say all of the above either,” Marco said with a smirk.  It seemed that he was bent on getting to the bottom of John’s interest in books.

“Nonfiction mostly, American history and stuff about other countries, I guess…..” Gage answered slowly, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them through his shirt front. He shifted his attention from the tall plant to Lopez, than looked beyond him to his partner, who was still gazing about curiously.

“Kinda far out, huh?” Johnny asked, indicating the room with a sweep of his hand.

Roy nodded in agreement, smile still in place. “Yeah, far out, not something you would really expect to see.”

He curbed any further conversation until they were all in the box and slowly ascending. “Is your apartment like that Victorian lobby down there?”

“Right…only I have more tassels, lots of crocheted antimacassars, a few of those fainting couches, and an absolutely incredible fireplace.”

A strange noise came from the corner where Marco leaned, the bag resting momentarily between his white sneakered feet. Roy thought the lineman was awfully close to spitting out his tasty breakfast casserole as he choked out the word “antimacassar” between snorts of hilarity.

The doors opened onto the fourth floor before Marco had a chance to spray his breakfast onto the wood floor of the elevator; the two men followed Johnny out and down the carpeted hall to the end. He unlocked the door and flung it wide, waving them in ahead of him.

“Hey, you weren’t kidding about the fireplace!” Roy exclaimed, zeroing in on the black mantel and fancifully carved legs of a fireplace situated in the middle of the living room wall. Windows flanked it on each side and Gage had set up a three shelf bookcase under each made of cement blocks and pine boards; the shelves were loaded with books. A strange looking chair, a loveseat that had a milk crate holding a ceramic lamp next to it, and a metal utility cart bearing the weight of a television made up the rest of the furniture. The galley style kitchen opened into the living room with no wall separating it, and a doorway led into what he presumed were the bedroom and bathroom. Aside from the obvious bachelor furniture that could be expected on a firefighter’s salary, the place wasn’t bad at all.

“Where are the antimacassars?” Lopez queried, glancing around and smirking. He started towards the doorway with the bag and shifted course when John pointed towards the chair.

“Put it there, would you Marco? And honestly, I don’t know what antimacassars are, I just heard my nutty landlord mention them one time. Luckily he hasn’t made it to the fourth floor with his renovations; otherwise, I would probably know what they are.”

“Oh, they’re those things old ladies throw over the arms of couches to keep them clean,” Roy said, shrugging his shoulders as the other two stared at him. “What? My grandmother had them all over the place; I think she made them herself.”

“A funny name for them,” Marco commented, swinging the bag up onto the chair and surveying the small apartment. “You think your landlord will put up that flowery paper on the walls?”

“Geez, I sure hope not, especially after I just painted the walls all white,” the dark haired paramedic replied with a wry smile and dropped wearily into the maroon cushions of the loveseat. He flung his head back and closed his eyes briefly before seeming to remember that the men were still there. His eyes shot back open just as Roy glanced at Lopez and jerked his head towards the door.

“Get some rest, John,” Roy said quietly, touching his partner’s shoulder lightly as he stepped past him. “Dixie said to remind you that she’ll be over later with your meds.”

“Right, okay, thanks.” He heaved himself to his feet and followed them to the door so that he could lock it behind them.

“Yeah Gage, get some sleep. Roy’s not gonna want to go back on the engine if you call in next shift,  ‘cause I’m pretty sure they don’t have enough trained paramedics yet for sick coverage ,” the lineman teased; he eased out through the doorway backwards with his hands raised in a placating manner when Johnny’s upper lip curled in a menacing sneer. He waved his fingers in a farewell gesture and hurried after DeSoto.

Gage stood in the doorway a moment, leaning a hip against the frame as he watched the two men saunter down the hall and stop in front of the elevator. They disappeared within and Johnny moved back into his little sanctuary. After he closed and locked the door, he trudged into his bedroom, flicking on the switch that turned on his two bedside lamps. The room darkening shades were still drawn from when he had left for work forty eight hours ago; they worked well as the room was pitch black.

Sitting on the edge of the double bed, he divested himself of his boots and socks, than stripped everything else off. It took some digging, but he finally located a pair of worn pajamas in a bottom dresser drawer that he hadn’t worn in years. The soft fabric felt comforting against his bruised and exhausted body; he shut off the light, crawled under all of the covers, and buried himself in the comforting warmth. Later, later, he would deal with all his failures, doubts, and the other raging thoughts that were threatening to mentally bulldoze him into a place he had no desire to go.

~TBC~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

For all you Roy fans out there, this chapter should make you happy! For all the rest of you, more on the other characters to follow!

He was tired, but it wasn’t the exhausting, crawl through rooms on your knees pulling a charged hose kind of tired. It was simply the kind of fatigue that slammed into you after the adrenaline had drained away and left you floundering in a kind of mindless middle ground. The brief but satisfying nap in the early hours of the morning, the ride to the hospital in the ambulance, and the waiting for Johnny’s arrival had given him time to recharge his physical batteries; it was his mental state that was presently dragging along at a snail’s pace. Perhaps because he had spent most of that waiting time thinking some pretty deep thoughts about his new partner and the other guys in the station?

Roy allowed himself a tight little smile as he pulled his sports car into the driveway of his house. Hopefully a few hours of sleep would fix his mental lethargy; that, of course, and the agreeable thought of forty eight hours off. He angled the Porsche off to the side of the cemented space, leaving JoAnne plenty of room to back the station wagon out from the single car garage. Since she usually had the kids with her, it was just easier to let her park the wagon inside and not have to wrestle children and gear outside.

Using his key, he let himself in the side door of the garage. He flipped on the light switch and noted with satisfaction the battery charger correctly hooked up to the car - Jo really did a good job of handling things when he was on shift. After this paycheck, a new battery would be in place and his enterprising spouse would be able to move on to her next project. What that would be was anyone’s guess, as it seemed that some inanimate object was always breaking or demanding attention. Well, at least they didn’t have to worry about the house itself since it was a rental and the landlord was fairly quick about fixing problems.

He switched off the charger and unclamped the cables, winding them neatly around it before he placed it on the shelf over his narrow work bench. Gently pushing down the hood of the Country Squire, he started towards the door that led inside the house. Pausing with his foot on the bottom cement step, another door kitty corner to the one he was about to unlock caught his notice. He turned, stepped back down on the painted grey of the garage floor, and opened the narrow door.

He had to move two steps into the small room and pull a chain to illuminate this added on space; wiring a switch into the wall was a project he wasn’t about to let his wife attempt, at least not by herself. And the usually agreeable landlord had made it clear that if DeSoto wanted it finished, he would have to do it himself and pay for the supplies. Perhaps someday, Roy thought with a twinge of amusement, if they were still here and he had some extra time to fix the inconvenience. Overall, it didn’t really matter, for this tiny lair was one of the reasons they had rented the Craftsman style two bedroom, one bath house. It was Roy’s little sanctuary from everything and everyone and contained his pottery supplies, the kiln he had painstakingly constructed, and his wheel.

He gave himself a long moment to survey the room which gave him so much satisfaction, glancing over the narrow shelves lining one roughly sided wall which held the clay and other paraphernalia, the tiny stand in the corner which displayed several pieces ready for firing, and the large window that pretty much WAS the rear facing wall. He stepped over to that, about six big steps were all it actually took, and gazed out at the backyard. Reason number two for renting this small but charming house.

The yard was large, with plenty of room for a grassy area, shade throwing trees, clothesline, sandbox for the kids, and a small wading pool which had already been drained and put away. There was even room for a rectangular shaped garden which extended into the side yard. The cement pad that comprised their patio held a grill along with a circular table and four chairs; one could step out through the sliding glass doors in the living room to access this relaxing area.

He nodded his head thinking that this was a perfect spot for an “A” shift barbecue. Plenty of room, the weather would hopefully cooperate so that everything could be done outside, and from the enthusiasm he had received from his shift mates, it sounded like they all would be attending. He’d even got a rather strong affirmative from their usually placid captain, which had surprised him a bit but had pleased him. Johnny had been the only one that had been lackluster in his response, but Roy attributed that more to exhaustion and illness than to Gage’s possible aversion to socializing. You don’t share an apartment with other firefighters and cops, as his partner had done in the early stages of his career, and be allergic to the company of other people.

Satisfied with his brief foray into his haven and the view from the window, as well as his thoughts about the new guys he worked with, DeSoto exited the room. He unlocked the door into the house and strolled into the kitchen, sniffing to see if there was something in the works for breakfast. No savory odors met his questing nose, but there was an aluminum pan on the stove. He lifted the lid and peered inside at the contents, grimacing at the side of the grey, lumpy mass. It appeared to be oatmeal….he stirred it with the wooden spoon resting on the stovetop in its oval ceramic holder and stared fascinated as the glop slowly dripped off the spoon back into the pan, clump by clump. Yep, most assuredly the stick to your ribs, healthy heart paste his mother used to make.

“Roy,” a soft voice interrupted his distasteful reminiscing and he almost reluctantly plunked the spoon back into the gluey mixture. He looked over at his wife as she advanced further into the cheery, buttercup hued kitchen and rapidly shifted his mental gears from the weird calculations his mind was working on. The sight of JoAnne, even as disheveled and tired as she appeared, was a whole lot more appealing than the question of the exact seconds it would take the oatmeal to begin its journey from the end of the spoon to the bottom of the pan.

“Hi Honey,” he answered with a smile, pulling her into a full armed embrace and then releasing her with a gentle kiss on the lips. He kept his hands lightly on her arms as he looked her over. She was still in her quilted bathrobe, bare feet with painted pink toes peeking out from under the hem of her nightgown. Her hair that she was letting grow out much to his pleasure was pulled into a short ponytail and not in its usual stylish do and Roy definitely knew what all this meant. These were all signs of a harried morning. She had sounded fine on the phone when he had talked to her from Rampart; in fact she had been positively energetic so what had happened between then and now?

She must have read his expression because she pulled loose and went over to the stove, peering into the pot. “It doesn’t look too appetizing, but maybe with some brown sugar, milk, and raisins……”

He cleared his throat and moved up beside her, placing his hands on her trim waist and looking over her shoulder as she gave the cereal a thorough stirring. “It’s fine, Jo, I haven’t had oatmeal in years. In fact, I can’t think of anything better for a rainy morning.”

She stilled her hands and leaned back against him, letting out her breath in a soft sigh. “I just needed to make something that didn’t involve constant attending. Lisa was up most of the night with croup; I carried her around in circles in the bathroom with the shower steaming up the room, it seemed to be the only thing that would give her relief. She’s finally sleeping now.”

“Is Christopher ok?”

“Yes, yes, he’s coloring right now at the coffee table. You know he sleeps like his daddy, nothing wakes him up.”

Roy brushed his lips across the soft skin of her face. “You sounded wide awake when I talked to you earlier. And even the second time when I called to let you know I was running late. ”

“Well, that kinda happens when you drain a full pot of coffee,” she admitted wryly, closing her eyes at the feathery touch of his mouth. She let him hold her for a minute or so before turning in his embrace and giving him a passionate kiss on the lips. “Now go say hello to your son, he’s been waiting for you. I’ll make a new pot of coffee, get the toast going, and doctor up your porridge for you. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

She broke loose from the entwining arms and gave him a little encouraging push towards the living room. He went, sneaking a quick look back over his shoulder. She snatched up her apron from the countertop and began rinsing out the coffeepot and he swiveled his head back around just in time to avoid running into the Lazy boy recliner that resided at the edge of the pale blue area rug.

“Daddy!” His son squealed, dropping a fistful of crayons down over the table and running towards his father full tilt. Roy caught him and swung him up and through the air in a full circle, making airplane noises. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jo step to the doorway and look at them; he realized there would be hell to pay if they woke up Lisa. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper and swung his boy up onto the gold couch, dropping down beside him and tousling the light brown hair fondly.

“What have you been coloring, son?” He asked, peering down at the pages scattered across the low table. Poor kid didn’t have much talent in the creative drawing department.

“Daddy,” Chris whined, reaching out and grabbing one of the wrinkled sheets. “Can’t you tell what this is?”

Roy swallowed hard and stared at the indecipherable splat on the page, thinking that except for the red color it resembled the breakfast he was about to partake of. His son whipped it around and shoved it under his nose, making his father cross his eyes to peer at the drawing.

“Of course I know what it is,” Roy bluffed gamely, squinting and then closing one eye to try and bring the masterpiece into focus. “It’s a fire truck.”

“I knew you were smart!” The youngster declared. He dropped his excited voice down a notch as Roy shushed him with a finger on his lips.

Letting out his breath in a relieved puff of air, Roy was glad he had gone with his first choice of the engine, relying on the brilliant red of the picture and the blue slash which he assumed was the water pouring out of the hose. His second choice had been a dragon; Chris was becoming interested in the stories of knights and castles and of course the fiery, scaly, always red dragons that always seemed to be the villains in the tales.

Seeing his wife reappear at the doorway and beckon to him, he scooped up Chris and flew him quietly into the kitchen. He perched him on the chair with the two phone books stacked on it and seated himself next to him, eyeing his bowl of oatmeal suspiciously. He looked over at his son and grinned when he saw the boy regarding his own small bowl with equal horror.

“Boys,” Jo warned, when it seemed that they were on the edge of revolt. The head of the household gamely scooped up a spoonful as his offspring watched him with wide eyes.

“Mmmmmmm!” DeSoto exclaimed in surprise, as the thick mixture hit his taste buds. It looked terrible, but whatever his creative spouse had done to it, it tasted amazing.

Jo dropped down into a chair and picked up her coffee mug; the fresh brew within was no longer black but almost white with milk. She watched as her men demolished the oatmeal and the buttered toast, chasing down the food with sugared coffee and milk in a plastic cup. Roy finished his breakfast with a satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair with a grunt.

“Why don’t you go lie down and catch a quick nap while Chris and I spend some time together?” He suggested, noting the way she sat motionless in her chair. She was holding her cup in her hands but not drinking it.

JoAnne tore her gaze away from their son who was dissecting the remaining slice of toast on his plate into strips. She set down the coffee. “It’s okay, Mrs. Wilson is coming by to take Christopher to the zoo in a few minutes. Her son Jack has been begging to go, and wanted Chris along for company. It couldn’t have worked out better.”

“Jack is my best friend,” Chris declared stoutly.

“That he is,” his mother agreed simply and glanced over at her husband. Roy had slouched down into the chair further and was now contemplating his dirty bowl and plate. He looked up and caught her gaze.

“You’re sure you’re ok with having a barbecue our next Saturday off?”

“Of course, it will be a perfect opportunity to meet everyone.”

Roy steepled his fingers together and regarded the tips thoughtfully. “It looks like everyone will be able to make it, although I’m sure Captain Hammer and Mike Stoker will have to check with their wives first.”

He snickered and Jo shot him a dirty look. He managed to look partly sheepish but his lips were twitching in glee. His spouse was unable to hold her fierce glare and allowed her own mouth to turn upwards. Chris ignored them both, stealthily pushing the scraps of bread onto the floor.

“Hey,” Roy said softly, sitting up straight and placing a hand on Jo’s arm. “I’ll get the yard ready, borrow some chairs and tables, and do the grilling; what else do you want me to do? I could have the guys bring things, you know, like some of the food and stuff…”

“Oh, I’ve planned enough of these get togethers, honey, to be able to throw it together. If you can take care of the kids on that morning, I’ll make a run to the store. It won’t take long at all to cook the macaroni and eggs for the salad, throw together the truckers’ beans, and whip up some lemonade. I’ll leave it to you to pick up the pop, ice for the coolers, and some adult beverages. I’ll make and bake a couple of desserts on Thursday or Friday. Can you think of anything else you’d like?”

Roy threw up his hands in mock disgust. “What I’d like to know is how you can organize all of this and take care of the house, the kids, and me without missing a beat. I mean, geez Jo, sometimes you have so many things going on at the same time it makes me dizzy.”

“I do what I need to do, just like you do the same,” she countered modestly, shrugging. She half rose from her chair, leaned, and peered down at Roy’s head, scrutinizing the reddish blond strands with interest. “So, on the matter of my extra activities, do you want me to touch up your hair?”

“Uh, no, no, let’s just let it go back to its natural color,” he stammered in reply, wishing that he had never let her experiment with color on his head. * It wasn’t that she done a poor job of it; after the first week, he had actually liked the red in his hair. But there was no way he was going to let her practice anymore with him as the subject now that he was assigned to a station and the guys would notice any kind of drastic change. He would just let it revert back and no one would be the wiser that he, Roy DeSoto, fireman and now paramedic, had colored his hair!

Jo nodded her head in acceptance but her spouse had a feeling that next she would be contemplating how he would look with a perm. She didn’t say anything, however, and instead pointed a finger at Christopher who immediately stopped his furtive movements with his breakfast leftovers. “You, young man, know very well that you’re not supposed to throw food on the floor for the dog. Please excuse yourself and clean up your mess.”

“Yes Mom,” her son pouted, lip thrust out. “May I be excused please?”

“You may, and please lose the attitude while you’re at it.”

Nodding, Chris obediently climbed down from his perch and trudged over to the narrow cupboard that filled the gap between the refrigerator and the wall. He removed the dustpan and whisk broom, deftly cleaned up his scraps, and deposited them into the trash can. He put away the cleaning supplies and sidled over to his dad, leaning on his leg and idly playing with the abandoned silverware on the table.

“I guess it’s true what they say about moms having eyes in the sides and backs of their heads, eh Chris?”

“Yeah Dad, it sure is,” he agreed readily, half heartily kicking at the chair’s leg with his foot. “Sorry Mom.”

Jo smiled and made a shooing motion with her hand. “All right, go get washed up so you’ll be ready when Mrs. Wilson gets here. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Needing no further encouragement, Chris shot out the door, sliding part of the way on the waxed linoleum in his socked feet; they watched his hurried exit with matching smiles. Roy shook his head in amusement. “You know, he reminds me of John, or maybe it’s vice versa, not really sure. That crazy shift involving all those animals a while back and the way Johnny went up that tree at the start of the shift yesterday……”

His wife rose from her chair, carrying her full coffee cup over to the sink and dumping it. She hunched slightly over the sink, keeping her back turned. Her voice was level, emotionless, when she replied. “You mean your new partner, John Gage? I thought you said he was, what did you call it, serious and intent?”

“Yep, that’s the one. And he is that, but I’m starting to see another side of him. Sometimes he seems so incredibly young and energetic, while other times he’s like an old soul. Do you know he was raised on an Indian reservation?”

“I’ve only met the man once for a few minutes, so I didn’t know that, but from the tone of your voice I would guess that you didn’t realize that either.” Now there was a trace of irritation both in her answer and her tone.

Roy didn’t notice the hard edge to her comment; he was too engrossed in thinking about the responses that had followed the tree climbing rescue, and the horrible one that had preceded it. Gage’s mood had seemed to slowly deteriorate as the hours went by and there had been nothing particularly energetic or youthful about him for the rest of the day, not counting the whole weed episode of course. They had all worked forty eight hour shifts before so that hadn’t been the problem. No, there had been something eating at Johnny, perhaps the same something that had almost came out in a question in the locker room.

He gave himself a little mental shake and tried to pick up the thread of conversation he had been having with Jo. It took a second before he could focus back in on what she had said. “Nah, aside from some chit chat in the squad after runs or a little bit of locker room gossip, we really haven’t talked too much. Last night, or I guess I should say early this morning, was the first time we actually had a few minutes of in depth conversation. And even then, that’s pretty much all I got from him. That and the fact that he was a bit wild growing up.”

She turned from the sink, wiping her wet hands on a towel and tossing it behind her to the counter when finished. She hesitated before blurting out her next question. “So is he full blooded Indian, or just part? You don’t grow up on the reservation unless one of your parents belongs there.”

This time he caught the steely undertone and half turned in his chair see her, wondering what had brought on that obvious aversion. Because she was right, she didn’t know his new partner at all. So he found it hard to believe that his normally open minded and easy going spouse would base her whole opinion of the man on the one idiotic, naïve comment Gage had made to her the night of his party. Surely, she wasn’t prejudiced; he had never seen that undesirable trait in her before. He rejected that thought quickly but knew he was going to have to figure it out. Maybe it was just one of those instant dislike on sight things.

“I’m not sure, probably at least half. Like I said, he didn’t go into much detail, just made it clear that he didn’t live in a tepee.”

JoAnne cracked a smile at that comment and Roy rose from his chair, still watching her. She held his gaze for a moment and then dropped her eyes, playing with the sash on her robe.

“What about girlfriends, friends, dates or whatever? Will he be bringing someone? And what about the other two single men? I’ll need to know so I can buy the right amount of meat.”

Roy had a feeling that was not what she intended to say, but decided to let the matter drop, at least for now. “I’ll find out.”

She nodded and left. Roy cleaned up the mess from the table. By the time he had the plates scraped, rinsed, and put into the soapy basin of the sink, Jo had herded their son back into kitchen to say goodbye.

Roy hugged him, straightened the collar on his shirt, and smiled fondly as he watched the boy run for the door; the doorbell had rung once, signaling the arrival of the Wilsons. His wife followed him at a more sedate pace but fast enough that the doorbell wouldn’t ring again and possibly wake their sleeping daughter.

She returned a few minutes later and surveyed the fairly clean and organized area. She pushed in the last chair and rested her hands on the top of it. “Thank you, I appreciate you helping out, especially on mornings like this.”

“Not a problem, Anne, you know I’ll always try to be there for you,” he replied quietly, coming up behind her and gently massaging her tense shoulders.

He debated whether or not to tell her that he wanted to check up on Gage after they all got some much-needed sleep; probably not a wise thing to say right now after the way she had reacted to his last mention of him. And if he brought up that little, unwelcome tidbit that the flu bug was flying around, there would definitely be hell to pay. His exhausted wife didn’t need to hear any of that right now anymore then he needed to get into a heated discussion with her about her animosity towards his partner, or whatever the heck it was. Most of the time he knew when to pick his battles or keep his mouth shut, and this was one of those times.

With a little coaxing, he got her out of the kitchen and past the slightly messy living room without her stopping to pick it up. Twenty minutes later the adult DeSotos were snuggled together in bed. Roy ran his fingers idly through Jo’s now unbound hair as she rested her head against his bare chest. They talked quietly, letting the words soothe them into a drowsy, contented state. They both stole occasional glances towards the crib against the wall; Roy had checked their daughter over and she was sleeping soundly with only a trace of congestion to be heard.

“I am so glad that Lisa is much better. It’s the times like these that I am really glad you’re a paramedic,” she whispered, running her hand slowly over his stomach.

“Oh?” Roy queried, distracted by the soft touch. He cleared his throat, his other hand now in play on the silky fabric of her gown in back. “And here I thought it was because we can play doctor due to my extensive knowledge of a woman’s anatomy.”

Jo giggled; her hand slid lower and effectively stopped their conversation.

~TBC~

*In an interview that was printed in the August 3rd, 1974 issue of TV Guide, the actor that plays Roy stated that he was told, when he was hired, by the creator of the show to dye his hair red.  (and to cut it as well) Looking at the episodes, you can see where his hair does appear to have a reddish tint to it and then it gradually fades to his original color. So perhaps at least part of an interview with one of the stars was accurate! Whether it’s true or not, I decided it would be something that his wife might experiment with, especially when you observe his interesting hair style in a couple of episodes in a later season; I believe the episodes are in season 5.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**__ **

By the time Dixie McCall finished her shift, changed out of her less than pristine uniform, and headed for her car, the rain that had been threatening to return all day after the morning’s hour of clear skies did so with a vengeance. It poured down in sparkling sheets tilted sideways by the accompanying wind. She sat for a long moment in her blue Mustang and contemplated the mesmerizing ballet of liquid dancing its way down the already fogged up window.

With a shrug of resignation, she struggled out of her pale pink raincoat and draped it carefully on the front seat beside her so that it would drip downwards onto the floor mat. The matching rain scarf that had protected her hair was tossed straight onto the floor with a grimace; it wasn’t very fashionable but it had done its job nicely. The white bag containing Johnny’s prescription and Tylenol she tucked into the glovebox; the large lidded bowl that held piping hot soup was nestled securely in the top of her handbag. This she stowed upright on the floor with the handle looped around the emergency brake. Unless she was forced to stop suddenly or take a wild corner, the contents of the bowl and of her purse would hopefully remain where they were.

Defrost on high and wipers flying at top speed, she navigated the busy streets with concentration. A last cup of coffee hurriedly gulped before she left the hospital had given her a jolt of adrenaline to keep her alert; she had kept an eye on the weather and had anticipated the additional rain. A wet start to her shift and now it was ending the same way….

Fingers tapping impatiently on the leather wrapped steering wheel, she finally made the turn into her friend’s parking lot and luckily snagged a front spot as another car departed it. On went the raingear once again and she executed a fast but dignified trot down the water pocked sidewalk to the locked door of Johnny’s building. She used her key to enter the lobby and paused inside to slide her shoes against the mat and divest herself once again of the hat and coat.

The elevator took its usual sweet time to reach the ground floor; Dixie entered leaving a dark trail of water on the rose patterned carpet from both the raingear slung over her arm and her low heeled shoes. The rug in the foyer had soaked up the moisture but the wood floor in the lift left the drops in ropey, liquid mosaics. She contemplated the pattern with a critical eye and decided that wood floors would have no place in the house she hoped to purchase soon, at least in the high traffic areas.

She shrugged at her optimism and slid her hand into and down the side of her purse for her cigarettes, trying not to dislodge the soup and the bag balanced on top. The elevator settled with a jerk onto the fourth floor and the doors slid smoothly open, revealing a shapely brunette waiting who was stabbing a red stiletto heel impatiently into the rug. She brushed past Dixie and thrust an equally sharp fingernail against the first floor button.

“Men!” She exclaimed, popping her gum in a rapid staccato of noise while slinging her oversized bag onto the floor with a thud. “Try to surprise ‘em and get the brush off, if you know what I mean? Who needs ‘em, anyways?”

Snapping her bag closed, the pack of smokes still buried, the startled nurse stared speechlessly at her and decided to let the moment slide; it wasn’t worth her time or frustration to admonish the obviously perturbed girl about her rude behavior. She simply nodded in understanding and strolled purposely out of the Otis box and down the hallway, feeling dowdy in her comfortable square heeled shoes and pale blue pantsuit with a scarf knotted casually about her neck. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much dowdy as just the rather unsettled feeling of being older and “not with it”. For the young lady had been garbed in tight, ripped jeans and a white oversized sweater, looking more like she had shopped at a thrift store then at one of those name brand designer stores in the mall. Definitely wasn’t suitably attired for the weather outside, but Dixie decided it probably wouldn’t even faze the agitated young woman.

“Pity, pity, pity,” she said out loud as she reached the door of Gage’s apartment and realized she was still wallowing in that bottomless bog of unhappiness she had been stuck in all day. It was an easy place to stay, apparently. She knocked softy on the door several times, not wanting to startle Johnny awake if he was still sleeping.

She flinched back when the door jerked open three seconds later and his frustrated voice flew through the narrow opening. “I told you Cheryl, I’m not……..”

An embarrassed pause and then John flung the door wide open, looking sheepish and disheveled. “Um, sorry Dix, I thought you were…”

“A very angry young lady, dressed in high heels and jeans, that almost knocked me over rushing into the elevator,” Dixie finished for him, stepping inside and smiling as Johnny grabbed the red t-shirt slung over his arm and pulled it on over his bare chest. He hastily snapped the blue jeans threatening to slide down his hips and closed the door, raking the other hand through his hair.

Still grinning at his awkwardness, she strolled over to his kitchen counter and set her purse on it. She purposely kept her back to him to allow him time to regain his composure; she fished out the pill bag first and then carefully placed the still warm bowl of soup next to it. Her fingers finally closed over the elusive pack of cigarettes but she dropped it when she heard the coughing behind her.

Once John got it under control and straightened up from his braced position against the wall, Dix handed him a glass of water. “A bit congested from all that water?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” he admitted, holding out his palm and accepting the two antibiotic pills she shook into it. He swallowed them and chased them down with another cautious sip of water.

“I take it Cheryl arrived unannounced and woke you up?” She guessed, correctly, as he scowled and nodded his head.

“The girl just won’t take the hint that I, well, that I’m not interested. She must have pounded on the door for at least five minutes before it woke me up; I nearly broke my neck trying to get my jeans on, fell flat on my as.., uh my butt, before I answered. Thought it was an emergency, you know, someone needed help…” he trailed off, running a hand once again through his newly shorn locks. He pushed away from the supporting wall and plodded on bare feet over to the loveseat, dropping into the sagging cushion with a resigned look. He threw his head back against the fabric, the dark hair looking suspiciously damp.

Sweat, probably, his fever must have broken while he was sleeping, Dixie decided. She went back to the counter and retrieved the new thermometer from the pharmacy bag, shaking it down as she moved in front of him.

“Let’s see if your temp is back to normal before I dose you with some chicken soup,” she suggested firmly, holding the stick up to his mouth. He groaned but took the mercury filled rod and obediently stuck it between his lips.

“Mm, 98.8, that’s pretty good, John,” Dixie said, peering at the number. “Do you have alcohol in your bathroom so I can clean this?”

“Under the sink, just ignore the clothes on the floor, ok?” He mumbled, stretching out his legs and closing his eyes, apparently not really too concerned about what she thought about his housekeeping.

She took care of the thermometer and deposited it in the small metal cabinet above the sink. The only clothes she noted in the otherwise clean room were a pair of faded blue pajamas, tossed carelessly over the tub ledge and partially dangling onto the floor. The damp looking material confirmed her suspicions about his fever breaking; she resisted the urge to scoop them up and play mother to the man in the other room. He was an adult, after all, and no matter what their history was together, he would only tolerate so much. He was so much like….

“Are you ready for that soup, Johnny?” She queried brightly as she went back into the living room, blinking back the tears that had gathered before they cascaded down her cheeks and left a telltale track of mascara. He must have heard something in her voice, however; his eyes flew open, he sat up straight, and he regarded her with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

She ignored the question for a moment and instead busied herself with getting the lid off the bowl and retrieving a spoon from the silverware drawer. By the time she had torn off a paper towel and turned around with everything in her hands, she had managed to school her features into a pleasant but bland expression. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong.”

Johnny shook his head. “You can fool those doctors over at the hospital but not me with that expression. You were thinking about the past, weren’t you? Mainly…about Ryan?”

“Ryan….” Dixie repeated in an emotionless voice, sighed, and handed over the things she was clutching tightly with a white knuckled grip. She dropped down beside him and canted her eyes sideways to avoid looking at him directly. He stared steadily back at her averted head, his sad expression telling her that he wasn’t feeling anywhere near one hundred percent yet. Usually he tried to jolly her out of her bad moods, even if it was just a goofy grin. And there was something else, too, in his eyes, a fleeting flash of a barely suppressed emotion that he quickly covered with dark lashes.

“I’m sorry Dixie, I really am. Every time you see me, I just remind you of him.” He shook his head again in a negative gesture, nearly sloshing the broth out of the bowl with the movement. “We work too closely together; I should never have done the paramedic thing, especially out of that Carson station.”

She finally turned her head and tried a smile that trembled a bit but remained in place. “Nonsense, it has nothing to do with you working out of Rampart. And as far as you reminding me of Ryan, well, that’s definitely a good thing, John. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m having a very melancholy day, that’s all. The rainy weather, seeing you hurt and sick, and my “woe is me” mood have just all added up to one miserable lady.”

A snort of disbelief met her earnest statement but Dixie understood that it was a quick reaction, and didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t believe her. She hoped he did, because it was the truth, mostly anyways. Ryan WAS the best thing that had ever occurred in her life, but seeing Gage almost every day did remind her of what she had lost, in addition to the good parts. It wasn’t his fault though, and she wondered how she could persuade him of that.

 A lengthy silence followed, broken only by the sound of soup being swallowed. Halfway through the contents, Johnny abruptly stopped and wiped his mouth with the paper towel. He set the bowl down on the milk crate next to the loveseat and got up, his movements slow and carefully orchestrated. Dixie frowned as she caught his lean to the right, clearly favoring his left side, and also saw the hand that went to his stomach and then immediately dropped to his side. She opened her mouth and then shut it firmly.

He didn’t say anything until he had reached the counter in the tiny kitchen, where he deposited the soup. He fiddled with the lid for a moment before half turning to look over his shoulder at her. “I’m okay, just still sore.”

She pursed her lips, amused at his mind reading, and wondered whether to believe his words. But he had not argued with her about Ryan even though he had expressed skepticism in a polite way. He was probably telling the truth about his health, although he could be distorting it a bit. She knew all about his encounter with the runaway hose on his overtime shift at another station, and also understood that his safety belt during that canal rescue had probably left more bruises on his stomach and back. Was it all that, or was his stomach rebelling from the food? Then again, it could be both.

“How’s the head?” She asked instead, rising and joining him at the counter.

“You mean, is it still hard as a rock? Yep….” He forced a laugh and finally got the lid snapped in place. He stowed the leftovers in the fridge and leaned casually against the counter with arms crossed, smiling at her reaction.

“Johneeeee…..” she drawled out in protest. “You know very well what I mean.”

“Yeah, I still got a bit of a headache, but nothing like it was earlier. And, my stomach is just rolling around in appreciation of the soup.”

“I hope so; I had Greta make it from some of the chicken stock she was going to use tomorrow for one of the specials. When I told her it was for you, well, I barely got out of there with just this small bowl.”

Johnny splayed a hand across his chest indignantly. “You mean Greta, as in the lady who manages the cafeteria?” His lips jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought she liked me.”

It was Dixie’s turn to laugh, and she poked a lacquered fingernail into his arm playfully. “She does, that’s the problem. She must have whipped up ten gallons of this stuff and wanted me to take the whole batch. When I said I couldn’t manage it, she wanted to know your address so that she could drop it off when she got off shift.”

“You didn’t…” he began with an indignant huff, and just as quickly cut it off when the finger jabbing him turned into a fist.

“Of course I didn’t, John, give me a little credit here,” she harrumphed.

He rubbed his arm and took a hasty step away from her. “Geez, Dix, maybe you should take up boxing as a second career. Say, how DID it go last night in your debut? I’m sorry I missed it.”

She smiled in genuine delight. “I think it went…”

The sound of a buzzer cut into her answer and Johnny rolled his eyes at the ill-timed interruption He answered the door intercom with an abrupt “yes?” and held up a staying hand at her as she gathered up her raingear and purse.

“It’s Marco Johnny, ok if we come up?”

“Sure, sure,” he answered in surprise, shrugging his shoulders and making a wry face as he buzzed his coworker plus one in the lobby door. He touched Dixie on her rain coated shoulder as she opened the door. “Thanks for bringing the stuff. You’re going to tell me how it went, right?”

She settled her purse and tucked a hair behind her ear. “Of course I will.” She stepped into the hallway and he took a step after her. She paused, her face and tone now serious. “We’re going to have a talk about Ryan too, John Gage, and soon, very soon.”

He dipped his head but nodded, apparently more than willing to let the promised talk happen at a different time. He sighed as she turned toward the elevator; it was a sound so soft that she wouldn’t have heard it even with her sharp hearing if it wasn’t for the despair that echoed from it. She drew a deep breath and bit her lip, every nerve in her body responding to the misery radiating from him. She wanted desperately to help, fix the problem, whatever it was that was eating at him and he had almost concealed from her. But the groaning of the ancient elevator as it creaked its way upwards stopped her and she knew she couldn’t do it, at least not right now. Lopez and someone else were approaching and she understood Johnny, enough, to know that he wouldn’t appreciate any show of sympathy or help in front of other people any more than he would tolerate the instinctive mothering she had almost succumbed to earlier. She rotated again, wishing fervently that she could do more than suggest a few words of lame advice.

“Oh and Johnny…? If your headache gets worse, there’s Tylenol in that bag.”

“Yes Nurse McCall,” he answered dutifully, finally lifting his head and waving an acknowledging hand at her.

“Incorrigible,” she muttered loudly, hoping he heard her and maybe cracked a smile at the insult; she was pretty sure he would take it in the spirit intended.

 She reached the elevator and punched the button with her thumb, realizing that she had meant to tell him about Roy asking how long they had known each other. Johnny’s new partner appeared to be a caring, intelligent, down to earth guy who knew what he was doing, both in work and his personal life. She was pretty sure the simple question had been asked because Roy DeSoto was curious in a good way and wanted to know more about the man that would have his back. Unlike Kelly Brackett, she thought they made a good fit as paramedic partners. Different in many ways, yet both had the needed compassion, common sense, and quick thinking needed for the job.

But the usually confident Johnny seemed to need his own reassurance right now or something else; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was something going on with him that went deeper than just the physical injuries he had suffered. It had to do with the job, obviously; perhaps a particular rescue or victim had gotten to him? She knew he sometimes took things too personally, found it hard to brush things off. And once he had become a paramedic his sensitivity had seemed to increase. The last couple of weeks he had been all over the place with his moods, at least with her, which coincided with him becoming an actual paramedic. It had never happened while at work, though, only when they had met up several times for coffee or beer as had become their habit over the last several years. She was glad that he felt comfortable enough with her to let himself go but yet he still couldn’t seem to confide in her.

The thunk of the elevator as it reached the floor caught her attention and she watched in interest to see who was accompanying Marco. He came out first with a rolled up umbrella in one hand and two brown paper bags clutched by the rolled up tops in the other.

“Come on Kelly, close that thing up and quit making a mess. Eh, hi Miss McCall, were you visiting Gage?” The annoyance in Lopez’s voice turned to pleasure as he caught sight of the waiting nurse, whose lips were pursed in mirth as she glimpsed a rounded part of whom she assumed was Chet Kelly.

“Well, hi Marco, and yes I was visiting John; I brought some things he needed.” She craned her neck to see better for Kelly was still struggling with something in the elevator. He finally came out backwards wrestling with a huge, opened umbrella that was so big it looked like it belonged on a beach. The fact that it had wide blue stripes on a white background made her wonder if it was indeed a pilfered shade from one of the numerous beaches or poolside tables in Los Angeles.

“I think I got it,” a frustrated voice floated out from the depths of the canopy; Chet jumped backwards as a definite click sounded and the nylon folded inwards. He grinned triumphantly and hoisted the bulky umbrella up to his shoulder, staggering a bit as he got it settled.

“That you did,” Marco commented drolly, glancing at Dixie and shrugging his shoulders. He looked at her again, apparently noting her empty hands. He proffered his neatly rolled umbrella. “Say, why don’t you take this? It’s really pouring out there, even worse than it was earlier.”

“That’s ok, I’m parked fairly close,” she started to say, stopping abruptly as he shook his head and pushed it into her hand.

“You’d be doing us both a favor. That circus tent Chet has there is big enough for our whole crew, and it really takes two men to control it.” He snickered and shifted his attention to his friend, who glared in irritation at the laugh. “I almost lost him in the parking lot when a gust of wind caught him and he became airborne! It was like Mary Poppins all over again!”

“Ha-ha, that’s really funny, good buddy,” Chet said sarcastically, stepping forward to take one of the bags from Lopez’s hands. Dixie and Marco hastily stepped backwards as the heavy handle to the umbrella swung with Chet, nearly knocking them both over. He sputtered and twisted; they immediately ducked as the shiny metal cap on the top whipped passed and nearly beheaded them. A shared look passed between them and they split apart, going in opposite directions and stopping a safe distance away from the weapon wielding lineman.

“Stand still, Chet, before you hurt someone!” Marco commanded, but there was no anger in his voice, just disbelief and a hint of embarrassment.

Dixie gave a little shake of her head, hair slapping against her rain proofed shoulders, and raised a hand to get Kelly’s attention. “Chet, why don’t you leave that against the wall here and pick it up when you leave? I don’t think Johnny has room in his apartment for that, um, umbrella.”

“Okay, okay,” he answered sheepishly, dropping the monster down on the floor and nudging it against the wall with his foot. It took him several pushes to get it against the wide trim and out of harm’s way. When he had it safely stowed, he stood back and surveyed it with a critical eye. “You know, it is pretty big for an umbrella……”

“I don’t think big is the word for it,” Marco said under his breath, just loud enough for Dixie to hear as she moved closer to him. He turned and looked at her, his expression serious.  “How’s Johnny doing?”

“He’s better, much better. Thanks for the use of the umbrella, Marco; I’ll return it via Johnny or Roy on your next shift.”

“Oh, no hurry, it’ll probably be awhile before we see rain again and besides, I have a dozen more of these things scattered around the house.” He nodded at her as she stepped into the elevator and waited until the doors had closed before marching over to his partner and handing him the lighter of the two bags. “Here, take your bag.”

“Yeah sure, I could have carried it, ya know,” the curly haired Irishman complained good-naturedly, snatching it and following Lopez towards Johnny’s apartment, but only after a last, over the shoulder lingering glance at his prized possession.

~eeeEEEeee~

Johnny watched the men and Dixie with a raised eyebrow and lips twisted slightly upwards. Her parting insult had cheered his dull mood slightly as well as giving him hope that she wasn’t as melancholy as she appeared to be. His bruised features smoothed into a blank expression as he mulled over the short visit and her promise about the future talk about Ryan. Rubbing his churning stomach absently, he considered everything she had said as well as the way she had acted. She usually kept a pretty tight lid on her emotions and he couldn’t help but wonder what had set her off. She had come out of his bathroom fighting back tears and as far as he knew, there wasn’t anything in that little room that should have caused her such distress. Seriously, it wasn’t that dirty! She was tired, he could see that; hell, even a blind man would be able to pick up on that. But it wasn’t like she had never experienced that before…they all had in the careers they had chosen, often on every shift. So there was something else happening in her life, or he really had been the cause. It was another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes and just plain screw-ups in the last couple of weeks, both on the job and off.

He gave a minute shake of his head, forcing his own depressing downward thoughts away, eyes still tracking the strange and questionable antics of Chet Kelly. That was one odd guy, for sure. A bit of a smile returned as he watched the pole wielding lineman almost decimate both his partner and the equally nimble Dixie McCall. Another minute passed and it looked like they had persuaded Kelly to abandon his umbrella; Johnny watched as Dix finally stepped into the elevator and his two crewmates waited for the doors to close before heading in his direction.

Tearing his eyes away from the approaching pair, he tried a tentative stretch, wincing as muscles protested. His whole body hurt, but now that he was up and moving he definitely felt better than he had when he went to bed. His fever had broken several hours ago; it wasn’t a pleasant experience waking up soaked with sweat but a quick rinse off in the shower plus clean sheets on the bed had easily fixed the problem. He had succumbed to the call of cotton and a soft blanket, falling back asleep instantly. His sound and dreamless rest had lasted only about thirty minutes, however, before clueless Cheryl had arrived. He knew he had been rude to her but since it hadn’t been the first time he had tried to thwart her bold advances, he didn’t feel too bad about it. At least he was pretty sure he had been clear about his feelings……whatever her take on the matter, he knew he’d probably not seen the last of her, simply because she lived in the same building on the second floor.

“Hey Gagey baby, how ya doing?” Chet’s hearty and rather loud question derailed his line of thought regarding forward girls and their behavior; it took him a second to focus in on both the inquiry and the concern that hovered within the playful words.

“Umm, ok, better, definitely better, what brings you guys around?” He backed up into his living room and lifted his hands questioningly.

Kelly followed and promptly slapped a bag into his hands, grinning widely. “Well that was a pretty uncertain answer! We stopped by to see you, ya big dummy, and bring you some nourishment.”

“Nourishment, huh,” he commented doubtfully, hefting the light bag and then peering inside. A bag of oyster crackers was nestled inside. “Crackers…”

“Sure Johnny, they’ll help settle your stomach, along with this.” Marco slid the bag off of his gift and wiggled the six pack of ginger ale.

“Hey, that’s nice, real nice of you guys to bring this for me.” He laid the bag down on the counter and accepted the pop, slinging it into the nearly bare refrigerator. “I need to let my stomach settle a bit before I try these, though. Dix brought me some chicken soup and that’s all I can handle right now.”

John didn’t add that the combination of rich, tasty broth and wide noodles was bouncing around in his gut, equivalent to the jumping of a kid on a trampoline. It was too much too soon, apparently, for he also felt like he was standing on the swaying deck of a schooner. Not a good combination and he gulped and licked his lips, trying to think of something else.

“Hey man, I like your fireplace,” Marco enthused, placing a light hand on the medic’s shoulder and guiding him towards the loveseat as he gushed over the inanimate object. He hadn’t missed the green cast settling over Johnny’s skin or the convulsive swallowing that followed. The guy was about to lose his cookies, or soup, so maybe if he distracted him….

It seemed to work for once Gage had semi reclined on the seat, his color improved and he was able to answer the fireplace questions with fairly lucid answers. After he admitted freely that he didn’t know much about the architecture of the building, Marco decided that his answers were more the result of unfamiliarity then exhaustion, illness, or injury. Relieved, he relaxed his twenty question routine and instead enjoyed their conversation as they easily segued into baseball and which teams were going to play themselves into the World Series. Chet perched on the end of the convertible chair and added a few choice words about the statistics, as well as his thoughts on the final Dodger’s games against Houston.

Johnny listened to the heated argument, hands laced loosely over his grumbling stomach, as Chet carried on about the starting pitcher. Kelly’s voice rose as he gestured wildly; Lopez merely smiled as he interjected a word here and there to keep his friend going. He inclined his head slightly and winked at Johnny. The paramedic gave him an understanding grin in return and jumped slightly as his intercom buzzed again. He lurched to his feet and padded on cold feet back to the box by his front door, pushing the button and leaning on the wall with a braced hand.

“Hello?” He queried, glancing quizzically over at his crewmates, who were making noises.

“Johnny? It’s Roy….”

“Ah, hey Roy, I’ll buzz you in….” He pressed the release button and then unlocked his front door, which Kelly had thoughtfully secured. He wondered how Roy’s ankle was doing as he turned back to the guys and folded his arms. “Ok, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing, you just might get a few more visitors, that’s all,” Chet replied innocently, smirking.

John stared at him, trying to figure out what that meant. “You mean the rest of the guys are going to make an appearance? Stoker and the….the captain?”

“Sure, why not?” Marco replied with a shrug. “You’re one of us, and we take care of our own.”

“Huh,” was Johnny’s eloquent answer to that statement; he mulled Marco’s words over as he waited for his new partner to arrive.

It was rather an unexpected and strange concept, having his whole shift show up at his home to check on him. It wasn’t that any of his other crewmates , from Station 10 and the one before that, had been to his apartment – they had, just not every single one of them in the same day. In fact, he’d shared an apartment with several firefighters and even a couple of cops until he had moved into this place at the beginning of the year. He supposed it was just the level of personal attention he was getting, from guys he barely knew, that was disconcerting. It was just a simple case of the flu, after all……..

~TBC~

 

**_Thanks for reading, commenting, and  kudos as this first fan fiction of mine draws to a close._ **


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